Called Your Bluff
by Kindle-the-Stars
Summary: Hermione wanders down to the prefect bathroom and finds it occupied by none other than Draco Malfoy - now complete. Go on, read it - i DARE you!
1. Called Your Bluff

Authors note ~ I'm new on , so reviews would be lovely … =D

* * *

Hermione crept slowly down the dark, deserted corridor in her dressing gown and slippers. It was after midnight, leaving the school utterly empty. She wished she had thought to borrow the invisibility cloak and Marauders Map from Harry, but luckily she didn't encounter Filch or Mrs Norris on her way to the Prefects Bathroom.

The Gryffindor's had double Herbology that afternoon and she _still_ smelt like the Greenhouses. While the rest of the class had headed to the baths after the lesson, she had a study session for Ancient Runes to go to. She had intended to bathe after dinner, but Harry and Ron had cornered her, begging for help with the potions essay that was in for tomorrow. Nearly everyone else in the Common Room had gone to bed by the time she had finished correcting ingredients and quantities for them.

She sighed with relief when she reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered without incident. "Soap suds," she whispered to the statue. The door opened silently and she stepped inside the huge marble bathroom, letting it swing shut behind her.

A figure in muddy green Quidditch robes knelt by the edge of the filled pool, turning off the last of the taps.

"What are you doing in here?" Hermione blurted without thinking.

Malfoy looked over his shoulder, piercing her with his light grey eyes. His face and hands were streaked with dirt and his normally sleek hair was tousled and windblown, softening his angular features.

"I would have thought it would be obvious that I was planning on taking a bath," he said in his drawling voice.

"In the middle of the night?"

He straightened up and gave her an amused look. "Yes, Quidditch practice ran later than usual and I'm filthy." He raised an eyebrow at her. "And how about you? Good little girls should be tucked into their beds, not scurrying around the castle after hours."

"Go crawl into a hole and die, Malfoy," she said acidly, turning back to the door.

"But you're not a good little girl, are you?" he said, stopping her with her hand on the doorknob. "If you were you wouldn't be capable of tormenting people like me and The Weasel to death."

Hermione turned to face him. "What?"

Surprise flittered across Malfoy's face. "Do you not know?"

"Know what?" she said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy laughed and sauntered toward her. "Good Lord, and here I thought you were intelligent."

"What the hell are you jabbering on about?" she snarled, not liking how close he was getting or how he towered over her.

Malfoy reached out and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She thrust a hand in her dressing gown pocket, fingers curled around her wand, but something stopped her from pulling it out and hexing him.

"You may be clever, Granger, but you still have a lot to learn when it comes to people," he told her, his stormy grey eyes focused on her mouth as his thumb brushed over her lips. "Especially men."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," she said, leaning away from him.

Malfoy snorted. "Of course you don't." He moved back a step and dropped his hand from her face. "Now go use another bathroom, or run along back to your precious Gryffindor tower, I'm trying to take a bath here."

As he spoke he pulled the top part of his emerald Quidditch robes over his head and tossed them to the floor. Her eyes dropped from his face to his torso, and she couldn't stop a quick gasp. All the Quidditch he played had clearly done wonders for his body. He was lean, yet muscular, and his skin was alabaster pale until it vanished into the waistband of his green trousers.

She had never really thought about what Malfoy looked like, but as she raised her gaze back to his dirt-streaked face, messy gold hair and intense grey eyes that were sparkling with mischief as he caught her staring, she realised there was only one word to describe him - _beautiful_.

"Unless you would rather stay, of course?" he added slyly. "There's plenty of room for two."

Hermione heard the challenge in his voice, but had no idea how to respond.

He moved his hands to the waistband of his trousers as if to take them off and then paused, waiting for her to make the next move in this game. Instead of a witty remark, she blushed and he smirked. Feeling like she had lost a round, she decided that if he was going to play with her, she would play right back.

She gave him a sultry smile and slowly pulled at the tie of her dressing gown. "I thought you would never ask."

His eyes widened, and then fixed on the knot at her waist, watching her undo it.

"Called your bluff, Malfoy," she laughed, stopping the game and retying the ribbon.

His eyes snapped back to hers, the mischief in them replaced by a dark, dangerous light that tightened her stomach. His hands flashed out and ensnared around her waist, dragging her up against his body.

"Who says I was bluffing?"

Hermione pulled out her wand and jabbed the tip of it into his bare stomach. They froze, both of them breathing a little quickly.

Malfoy gave her a slow, sexy smile. "You're not really planning on using that are you?"

His fingers curled around her hand and pushed the wand further into his own skin, making her pull her hand back for fear of hurting him. He released her hand and she lowered her wand to her side, though his other arm was still wrapped around her waist.

"That depends," she replied, pleased that her voice didn't tremble, despite the closeness of their bodies.

"On what?"

Biting her lip nervously, she wondered how far she should allow this little game to escalate as his eyes focused on her mouth again. "On what you do next."

He chuckled under his breath. "In that case, I think you're about to curse me."

And then he kissed her.

She stiffened, not knowing what to do next. A hundred different hexes and jinxes Harry had taught her sprang to mind, but she still didn't raise her wand. It felt … strange, so strange to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. His mouth was soft, tentative on her own, as if he wasn't sure how he would be received.

Slowly, she began to kiss him back. Encouraged, he wound his free hand into her hair and tilted his head, parting her lips with his own to deepen the kiss. He groaned low in his throat, sending shivers down her spine to her toes and back, raising goose-bumps over her skin even though she wasn't cold. She couldn't understand her body's inexplicable reaction as a boy she always thought she hated, and had always thought that hated her, kissed her with such abandon.

Her fingers moved to run through his blond hair, holding him to her. Suddenly his hands were at the knot of her dressing gown, untying it and letting it drop to the floor. He then grasped her hips, bringing their bodies even closer together. Her hands moved from his hair, down his neck and shoulders until they were trailed over his chest and down to his rigid stomach muscles.

He broke away for a brief second to say her name in a ragged whisper before his mouth came down on hers again.

The sound of his voice gave Hermione a brief moment of clarity. Draco Malfoy. She was kissing Draco Malfoy. Arrogant, Muggle-born hater, Slytherin house, son of a Death Eater - _Draco Malfoy_.

Bringing her hands to his chest again, she shoved him away from her with all her strength. He staggered back, right on the edge of the pool.

"Hermione, what -" he started to say, but he lost his balance and fell backwards into the water.

She stifled a vicious giggle as the bubbles and froth exploded around him. He came up drenched and spluttering, wiping water from his eyes.

"What the _hell_ did you do that for?" he practically growled.

"I would have thought it would be obvious," Hermione said coolly, mimicking his words from earlier as she pointed her wand at him again.

Malfoy hoisted himself up from the water, and she tried not to be distracted to the way his muscles tensed. He was soaked to the skin and his sodden green trousers clung to his hips and legs, dripping water over the floor. He stalked toward her, anger and something else sparkling in his eyes, and grabbed her by her forearms. She opened her mouth to hex him – but was interrupted by a meow outside the bathroom door.

They both looked towards the door, and then back at each other. Malfoy let go of her and strode to the door, pulling it open.

Mrs Norris sat in the corridor, her lamp-like eyes bulging. In a flash of bushy tail she whisked off down the corridor, no doubt to find Filch.

Malfoy swore explosively and gathered up his Quidditch robes. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

Hermione already had one arm in her dressing gown as they hurried to the door. They ran down four corridors, and then he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a secret passageway.

"We should be safe here," he whispered.

They waited a long moment, hearts pounding and both breathing quickly, until they heard Filch's voice. "Follow the water, my sweet, they can't have gone far."

Looking down, Hermione saw with horror the puddle around their feet from Malfoy's sopping wet trousers. They had left a trail.

Waving her wand in a complicated gesture, she dried off the water and motioned silently to him to continue down the passage. Somehow, she found her hand in his own while they ran. They burst out of a tapestry near the Transfiguration corridor and stopped to catch their breath.

"This way," he said, pointing to the left.

She shook her head. "My Common Room's that way."

"Whatever, Granger – just don't get caught on your way up."

"Oh, I'm afraid it's far too late for that," a familiar, stern voice said.

They spun around, finding themselves face to face with Professor McGonagall wearing a tartan dressing gown and a disapproving expression.

Filch came wheezing down the corridor behind her, a smug, delighted smile on his face. "Found them, Professor? Good … good … I told you, my sweet, they would not get far," he said to the cat around his ankles.

"Mr Filch would you please be so kind as to rouse Professor Snape and ask him to come to my office?" Professor McGonagall said to him, and he hobbled off.

"And as for you two," She turned back to Hermione and Malfoy, still standing hand in hand, unable to speak. "Follow me please."

* * *

Well you read this far - how about leaving a comment, even if you just tell me your favourite colour? =p

seriously though, i am new on here so i would appreciate feedback - the sequal to this is already written, so it can be put up very quickly if you just press the little button at the bottom and ask ... =D


	2. Imprudence

Authors note – I think I forgot to say at the start of this fic that all characters belong to JK – obviously!

Also, thanks to those who reviewed!

* * *

Professor McGonagall opened her office door and gestured that Malfoy and Hermione should enter first. With a flick of her wand, she lit the lamps and fire, illuminating the dark office, and walked around her large desk to her chair, looking beadily at the two of them hovering in the centre of the room.

"Sit down," she said imperiously, nodding towards the two chairs in front of her desk.

Hermione sank nervously into her chair, risking a glance at Malfoy. His face was impassive, revealing nothing. She wished they had a chance to get their stories straight before talking to the teachers.

"Professor, I -"

"Miss Granger, since Professor Snape is Mr Malfoy's head of house, we shall wait for him before we begin."

Chastened, she looked down at her hands. They were dusted with mud from where she had run her fingers through Malfoy's hair. She surreptitiously tried to rub it off, before burying them into the folds of her dressing-gown, hoping the teachers would not make the link between her dirty hands and his muddy, tousled hair.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Enter," said McGonagall.

Snape strode into the room in his billowing black robes. He saw Malfoy and Hermione and paused, raising a single eyebrow before joining Professor McGonagall around the desk.

"You asked to see me, Minerva?"

"Yes, as you can see, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger were discovered in the school after hours. Mr Filch reported a disturbance near the Prefect Baths and I found them in the Transfiguration corridor."

"Together?" Snape's cold, black eyes looked between her and Malfoy.

"Yes," replied McGonagall.

"Their excuses?"

"They have not yet given any. I decided to wait for you before interrogating them."

"I see," said Snape silkily, staring at Malfoy. It seemed as if some sort of silent exchange was taking place between them. "In which case, let us proceed."

McGonagall turned to Hermione and Malfoy. "Explain," she said curtly.

They glanced at each other, wondering who should speak first. Eventually, Hermione began, "I had double Herbology this afternoon, and I had no opportunity to bathe in the evening. I decided to go to the Baths, where I found Malfoy."

"Quidditch had run late, we're training for the match against Ravenclaw. I went to the Baths after practice," Malfoy said, taking up the narrative. He gave her a swift, fleeting look. "We argued, which was what attracted Filch. We were returning to our Common Rooms when Professor McGonagall caught us."

There was a long pause.

"And what, precisely, were you arguing about?" Snape asked, still looking intently at Malfoy.

"Quidditch," Hermione improvised, knowing that Snape and McGonagall, as heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin, often disagreed about the inter-house championship. "Malfoy seems to think Slytherin are going to win back the cup this year."

McGonagall snorted, casting a quick glance at the silver cup in the cabinet on the far wall.

"As I am sure you are both aware," she said, returning her piercing gaze to them. "Nothing gives a student the right to walk about this castle after hours. And you are Prefects, we expect you to set an example for the younger students."

Hermione looked down at her feet, not wanting to meet the teachers' angry expression.

"However," McGonagall continued, making her look up again hopefully. "Your excuses for being out of bed are … reasonable. And if Professor Snape agrees with me, then I am prepared to show lenience."

Snape gave a single, stiff nod.

"In that case, I will not be removing any points from Gryffindor or Slytherin, yet you shall both receive detention. If you are ever caught after hours again you shall not be given so light a punishment, am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," they chorused.

She turned to Professor Snape. "Their punishment? Perhaps they should assist Mr Filch with the cleaning of the bathrooms."

"No, I have a better idea." Snape's black eyes were glittering maliciously. "Tomorrow evening is the dark of the moon. The two of you shall accompany me into the dark forest, where you will help me search for the Deadly Nightshade herb."

Hermione felt a chill go down her spine. She had only been in the Forbidden Forest a handful of times, yet they were all experiences she would rather forget – and she didn't particularly relish the thought of being in the forest with only Malfoy and Snape for company. Peeking at Malfoy, she saw that he too had gone pale under the muddy streaks on his face.

"It is exceedingly dangerous, causing hallucinations and, in high enough quantities, death," Snape continued, the gentle caress in his voice sounding like he admired the plant for its dangerousness. "However, when picked at the dark of the moon it looses its lethality and has a variety of uses in potion making. Be in the entrance hall at eight o'clock, and _do not_ be late."

McGonagall stood up. "Now that that's settled, I shall escort Miss Granger back to the Gryffindor tower. Severus, if you would like to do the same for Mr Malfoy?"

"Certainly."

McGonagall gestured that they stand up, and the two of them were swept from the office and out into the corridor. Hermione looked over her shoulder at Malfoy, but he didn't turn around as he and Snape strode away in the opposite direction. She and Professor McGonagall walked swiftly down the corridor towards the Common Room.

"Miss Granger …"

Hermione flinched at the teachers' tired, weary tone, fearing a different kind rebuke. "Yes Professor?"

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall didn't disappoint.

"I feel I must ask, has anything … _untoward_ occurred between you and Mr Malfoy?"

"No Professor," Hermione lied through her teeth, grateful that the corridor was dark enough to hide her blush. "Nothing at all."

Professor McGonagall gave her a pointed look. "You must realise that being discovered together in the middle of the night looks rather incriminating."

"Yes Professor," she said, unable to think of anything else.

"You are an intelligent girl Miss Granger, but sometimes even intelligent girls need reminding. As I'm sure you are aware, Mr Malfoy is the son of a highly notorious Death Eater, and, since you are intimately acquainted with the Order of the Phoenix, any …"

She paused, and sniffed distastefully before continuing. "…_Romantic entanglement_ between the two of you would be most imprudent."

"Yes Professor," she said, relieved that they were at the Fat Ladies portrait.

"Goodnight then, Miss Granger."

"Goodnight Professor."

The Common Room was dark and empty, lit only by the softly glowing coals in the fireplace. Hermione lit her wand and hurried up the stairs to her dormitory. The rest of the girls were asleep, the hangings on their four-poster beds drawn tight shut. She hung up her dressing gown beside her bed and kicked off her slippers.

Before she slid into bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. There were two unmistakable muddy handprints on her hips, standing out starkly against the pale blue material as undisputable evidence of her evening's activities.

It was only when she was burrowed between her sheets in the darkness of the dormitory that she allowed herself to think, to wonder, to imagine what could possibly have happened if she hadn't pushed Malfoy away.

* * *

Sooooo, its off to the forbidden forest! What will happen between those dark trees …?

You've read this far, how about pressing that little button at the bottom – this time you could tell me your favourite food?


	3. Into the Dark

Authors note – not as long as normal, but a sort of intro to the next part …

* * *

At ten to eight the following evening Draco made his way up to the entrance hall for his detention. Hermione wasn't there yet, so he leant against the banister of the marble staircase and pulled out his wand, tapping it impatiently in the palm of his other hand. A group of second year girls were giggling shrilly beside the open doors to the great hall, having enjoyed a late dinner. He glared at them until they noticed his look and scampered fearfully away.

He snorted, and then allowed his gaze to drift up the marble staircase, waiting for the moment she would appear.

He didn't understand how it had happened, this change in his feelings for Hermione Granger. He still hated her – she was a goody two shoes Gryffindor, a prissy know-it-all, overly competitive, best friend of the idiotic double act Potter and Weasley - not to mention a _mudblood_.

And yet, he could hardly take his eyes off her.

He knew when _that_ part of his feelings towards her changed. She had appeared at the Yule Ball in their forth year on the arm of the halfwit Victor Krum looking utterly different from how she normally did in her uniform, wearing a pale blue dress that had subtly hinted at curves he had never noticed and made her skin look like cream.

'When did the mudblood get _pretty?_' he remembered thinking to himself.

Of course, once he had noticed her beauty, he began to see her other qualities. Her courage, her humour, her intelligence, her unwavering loyalty to her friends, her determination to stand up for others.

And then, last night, she had suddenly appeared in the Prefect Bathroom, looking completely adorable in pale pyjamas. Somehow, he had no idea _why_, he had ended up practically telling her these feelings. He had actually kissed her, in the way he had thought about for years. And she had kissed him back – at first.

When she appeared at the head of the marble staircase, Draco had to stifle a groan. Was she _trying_ to kill him? She was wearing jeans and a jumper that did absolutely nothing to hide her curves, with her cloak thrown over one arm. Her hair was tied loosely back with wispy tendrils escaping around her face. Chocolate brown eyes caught his stare and she frowned – she was still angry about the night before, he realised.

"Well if it isn't the Gryffindor Princess," he drawled in a way he knew she hated as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Descended from on high to mingle with the lowly commoners."

"Drop dead, Malfoy," she said bitingly, sitting on the lower step of the stairs as far away from him as she could get.

"Draco!" a familiar voice called from the doors to the dungeons. Pansy ran up to him, standing too close as she always did. She reached out to smooth his collar against his throat, her hands lingering. "Are you sure you have to go?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

Pansy lowered her voice to a purr, looking up at him under her eyelashes. "Well stay safe, alright? I would hate it if something happened to you."

Hermione made a disgusted noise and Pansy instantly dropped her flirtatiousness to glare at her. "Something we can help you with, mudblood?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered under her breath, though Draco didn't think Pansy had heard. She was too busy playing with the buttons of his coat.

"I'll be fine Pansy, I'll see you later," he said, wishing she would go away.

"Ok …" She leaned in close, still holding on to his coat, no doubt hoping for a kiss. He saw Hermione roll her eyes. "Bye then, Draco," she sighed disappointedly when he didn't respond.

He waited until he was sure Pansy was out of earshot before turning to Hermione. "Not jealous were you, Granger?"

"Dream on."

Snape suddenly strode out of the doors to the dungeons, his black cloak swirling around him.

"You're both here. Good. Follow me."

Without any preamble he headed to the main doors and into the dark, leaving the two of them to scramble after him, Hermione fastening her cloak around her shoulders while she walked.

The night was bitterly cold and their breath erupted in clouds of billowing white. The light of the castle behind them faded as they headed towards the forest until the only illumination came from their lit wands.

"Now, you are both aware of the Nightshades appearance?" Snape asked as they entered the trees.

"Yes Professor," they answered together.

Draco _hadn't_ actually known what the herb looked like, but, not wanting to be stood up by Hermione, he had gone to the library to look it up.

"And where is it found?"

"Calcareous soil," Hermione replied instantly. "It grows in dark places, so most likely in the roots between trees as a sub-shrub."

Snape pursed his lips, but didn't reply, showing that she had gotten the answer right.

They reached a fork in the path, where they stopped. By now they were deep in the trees, the canopy above hiding even the stars from sight.

"You will collect the leaves of the herb in these bags," Snape told them, passing them each a medium sized sack of black material. "Now, as I am sure you are aware, the Dark Forest contains many dangers. Should you come into difficulty send up red sparks with your wands. Draco, you and Miss Granger shall take the left path. We shall meet back here at two o'clock. Am I understood?"

"Yes Professor."

"Good." Snapes' eyes travelled between the two of them calculatingly. "Try not to kill each other."

He turned around and took the right path, quickly melting into the darkness, leaving Draco and Hermione alone together in the murky trees.

* * *

Review ...? =D

how about favourite type of weather? ;p


	4. Fight or Flight

*** Authors note – obviously I am not J K Rowling. In case people haven't noticed, this is a fanfiction website and I unfortunately own nothing

Also, there is some fairly coarse language (the F-word, for instance) in this, and also a _teeny_ bit of gore – so don't read if either will offend you and consider yourselves warned!

Personally I'm not convinced its enough to put a rating higher than teenage on, but if you do think I'm wrong, let me know and I will put a mature content on it

Sooo, its off to the Forbidden Forest for our lovely couple – and here there be monsters …***

* * *

For over an hour Draco and Hermione walked in silence, heading deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The only noise came from the wind as it shivered around the trees and their feet crunching leaves and twigs. The light from their wands bounced off the tree trunks, occasionally illuminating the wary, watching eyes of animals.

The trees grew bigger and taller the further in they went, half covered in tattered moss and ivy, their roots invading the narrow path. Hermione tripped and fell, catching herself on her hands.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, stopping to wait for her.

"I'm fine," she said shortly, brushing dirt off the shallow scrapes on her palms.

He reached down to help her up. "Here, I'll -"

"Don't touch me, I said I was fine," she snapped, clambering to her feet.

He flinched at the sharpness of her voice, but shock was quickly replaced by anger. "Don't touch me, huh? That certainly wasn't what you were saying last night."

"I don't want to talk about that." She pointed her wand at her palms and muttered, "Episkey," healing the grazes.

"You don't want to talk about … _that?_" he repeated, purposefully drawling his words. "Do you mean when I kissed you?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." She strode ahead, her back ramrod straight in fury, leaving him to follow. He ran a few steps to catch up, walking right behind her.

"You know what I think, Granger?" he said softly into her ear as she walked. "I think you liked being kissed by me. I think you _loved_ it." She didn't reply, though the knuckles of the hand clutching her wand were white. He decided to push her even further. "Tell me, do you always make that moaning noise when someone kisses you, or am I just the -"

"Silencio!" she shouted, whirling around to point her wand at him.

"Protego!" he countered, deflecting her spell. They faced each other, wands raised, both of them breathing quickly. Draco chuckled and lowered his wand slightly. "See, there it is. That feistiness – no wonder you -"

"Impedimenta!" he heard her say, just before he was thrown backwards by an invisible force. Seeing stars, he landed hard on his back a few feet away.

"Draco!" she cried, seemingly worried about what her spell had done.

He waited until she lowered her guard, hurrying towards him before he moved. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted. Her wand flew out of her hand and he caught it, climbing to his feet.

She stopped dead in her tracks and glared at him. "That was a dirty trick. You're nothing but a coward, you won't even face me in an honest fight without resorting to underhanded trickery, though I wouldn't expect anything less from a Slytherin -"

"Don't you _dare_ judge me Granger, you have no idea what my life is like," he snarled at her viciously.

"Oh yeah? I bet it's been _so difficult_ for you, hasn't it? Strutting around your manor house with your filthy rich parents. You probably have house-elves as slaves, don't you? You've never done a hard days work in your life and you've never known a single moments hardship. Your parents probably let you get away with anything you -"

"You think so, do you?" he interrupted in a quiet, deadly voice. "Well did you even _consider_ in that big brain of yours what it might be like to have Death Eaters as parents? People who know the Unforgivable Curses and have absolutely no scruples about using them for _disciplinary_ reasons?"

Hermione blinked, her mouth open in surprise.

"The first time I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me I was three years old," he told her bitterly. "I had accidentally set fire the dinning room table. I was only a child, completely unable to control my magic."

He had never told a single soul about his childhood, yet something in her expression tore the memories from his mouth – perhaps he wanted her to think better of him, to understand why he was the way he was.

"When I was six I borrowed my fathers broom without permission and went flying around the grounds. He beat me unconscious without even lifting a finger. He stayed sitting in his chair the whole time, his wand in one hand and a wineglass in the other. I woke up in the dungeons and was kept in there for three whole days without any meals. When I was finally allowed out, filthy and starving, do you know what I found waiting for me in my bedroom? A brand new broomstick, just for me, neatly wrapped up in silver paper.

"My father is a monster," he continued. "I may not be quite as unicorn-pure as you are, Gryffindor Princess, but I know I'm not evil."

Hermione's expression showed sympathy and understanding for a brief moment, before it hardened into a sort of disdainful pity. "You still managed to turn out exactly like him," she whispered.

"_Never say that!_ I am nothing like him," he hissed, stalking towards her. She backed away a few steps, before stopping and standing her ground.

"Don't you come any closer, Malfoy," she warned him, her hands curled into fists.

"Or what?" he taunted, just as he reached her.

Her arm blurred into motion and he felt an explosion of pain as her fist collided with his jaw. He cursed and grabbed her arm. Her other hand came up, ready to strike, but he caught her other wrist too in the hand holding both of their wands.

She struggled against his grip and he pushed her backwards until she was up against one of the trees. Pinning her with his body, he held both her wrists and the wands in one hand, while the fingers of his other hand wrapped around her neck, though his touch was feather-light, not wanting to hurt her, even in his anger. He could feel the heat emanating from her skin even through their clothes.

She stopped fighting and looked up at him. He thought he saw a trace of fear in her eyes. His hand trailed slowly over her neck and throat before coming to a rest on her collarbone.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, though her voice trembled slightly.

He released her wrists, but she made no move to escape. Raising his hand, he lightly touched the tip of her own wand to her lips, finding the urge to kiss her nearly overwhelming.

"Nothing," he sighed, handing her back her wand and turning away to keep walking.

He had only gone a few paces when he saw the plant they were looking for, the first one they had found.

"Here," he said, pointing. Hermione came up next to him and knelt down by the plant, pulling out her bag. Joining her, they stripped the leaves in silence. Draco cast her a sideways look as they worked, but her face was impassive, unreadable.

"That everything?" he asked when they had finished.

She nodded, and they stood up.

"Draco?" she said, looking around them, her face both confused and a little frightened.

"Hmm?" he said, trying to remember whether or not that was the first time she had used his proper name.

"When did we leave the path?"

He stared at the floor around them, then raised his gaze to the shadows between the trees. Sure enough, the path was nowhere in sight. "It can't be far," he said optimistically. He pointed the way they had come while they were fighting. "Come on."

They picked their way across the treacherous roots for a few minutes. He shook his head as they walked. "We should have found it by now."

"Here, wait," Hermione said, her fingers catching hold of his coat to stop him. She laid her wand flat on her hand. "Point me," she whispered to it, making the wand spin on her palm in a clever spell he had never heard of, until it stopped, quivering. "We were headed north-east into the forest, so that means the path should be … that way." She pointed forwards.

"That's the way we were going."

She looked back the way they had come and bit her lip worryingly. "Maybe we crossed it without realising."

"Not likely," he muttered.

"Come on, lets go back and see if we find it."

She started forwards when he heard a sharp, clicking sound in the darkness. "What was that?"

"What?" Hermione asked, turning back round.

Draco looked at her, his eyes wide. "Didn't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That noise," he said, staring around at the silent trees. "It was like … I don't know, clicking, or something."

To his surprise, Hermione laughed. "How typically cliché. Were you hoping I would get scared if you said you heard a spooky noise and would want to hold your hand? Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't go with the stereotypical – okay, I did hear that," she added fearfully as the noise rang out around them again.

They drew closer together, their wands raised high in a vain attempt to light the dark shadows in the trees around them. Their hands found each other and clasped tightly, lending confidence. For nearly ten minutes they stood still and silent, staring into the darkness.

"I think it's gone," Draco whispered.

"We should keep moving," she said, equally quiet.

"Which way?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "North-east. That way we should be parallel to the path, and if we zigzag we might cross it."

Keeping her hand in his, they began to walk, clambering over the roots and boulders. He wondered, briefly, what time it was and how they were going to find Snape if they were lost. He thought about mentioning this to Hermione, but didn't want her to think he was overly frightened.

The ground began to slope down hill, into a bowl like depression. As they walked, he brushed his fingers against a tree, coating them in some sort of tacky residue.

"Ugh," he exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Hermione followed his disgusted stare and raised her wand to illuminate the tree trunk. "It's white and sticky … almost like glue."

"There's more – here, and over here. It's in dome shapes." He let go of her hand to examine one of the white mounds. "Hermione, I think – I think it's a spider web."

"No!" she gasped, her face white with fear. She hurried toward him and grabbed his arm, trying to drag him forward. "Draco, we have to run, now!"

"What?!"

"Harry and Ron told me about this place – massive spiders that eat people – we have to run!" She was clearly terrified, and anything bad enough to terrify Hermione Granger had to be awful, he thought.

"Come on then!" he started to run with her, but the clicking noise erupted again, only this time it sounded like ghastly applause, coming from hundreds of unseen creatures.

Suddenly he could see the spiders everywhere - perched on tree branches, emerging from the white domes – surrounding them completely. She had been right, they _were_ huge, some of them seeing over seven feet tall, like massive carthorses, all with eight, beady black orbs eyeing them hungry. The clicking noise was their pincers tapping together, the black serrated edges covered in what he was sure was some kind of poisonous secretion.

"Hermione, get behind me!" Pointing his wand at the nearest of the monsters, he shouted, "Supefy!"

The spell bounced of the creatures hide, though it chattered angrily at being hit. He was standing back-to-back with Hermione, and he could hear her shouting spells over the monsterous clicking of the spiders. "Stupefy – Impedimenta – Reducto - _Stupefy!_"

But it was no good, the spiders skin was thick enough to repel all the spells they fired at it. They had to get out of here _fast_, but he had no idea how.

Abruptly, he remembered the Triwizard Tournament – when Potter had faced the dragon. The spiders were steadily advancing, gaining confidence as they seemed to realise that the feeble spells were not harming them. Unable to think of a better plan, Draco pointed his wand up at the sky and yelled, "Accio broom!"

"Draco, get down!" he heard Hermione scream. He yanked her down with his as well by her cloak just as she shouted, "Incendio!"

A great tongue of flame exploded from the end of her wand, forming a fiery circle around them. Several spiders were caught in the inferno and let out terrible shrieking noises and clicks as they burned.

One of the spiders on a tree branch cleverly tried to jump into the ring from its added height. "Protego!" he shouted, repelling the spider, which fell backwards into the flames.

"Thanks," she gasped.

"No problem," he panted, equally breathless.

The other spiders were taking the initiative in following the lead of the one who had jumped from a tree, and were now swarming up the trunks like oversized ants.

"Reducto!" Hermione's spell hit one of the tree branches, which exploded in a cloud of bark, knocking several spiders to the floor, though they were quickly replaced by others. "Draco, this isn't working!"

"I know – we just have – to hold them back for a few more – Here!"

His Nimbus Two thousand and One skidded to a halt just in front of them. The varnish of the handle had been badly scuffed in its flight though the trees, but he honestly couldn't have cared less.

"Hermione, get on!" he shouted to her as he jumped on the broom.

Seeing what he was doing, she instantly leapt on behind him, her arms wrapping tightly around his stomach with her hands holding on to his belt. "Go!"

He kicked off from the ground hard, feeling the wind rush through his hair as they rose. A sudden weight struck the broom, making them drop several feet. Hermione gasped in his ear, a sound of surprise and pain.

He twisted round wildly and saw with utter horror the spider clinging to Hermione's back. Eight glaring black orbs met his eyes, furious that its prey was escaping. Without even pausing to think, he raised his wand -

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he screamed.

The spiders' body fell lifeless to the ground and was instantly swarmed upon by its fellows. Without its added weight the broom rose like a cork and they quickly cleared the tall trees.

Hermione's hands were limp and he wondered if she had fainted. He felt her begin to fall and he grabbed at her hands, keeping them locked around him. ""Hermione, hold on to me!"

A few miles in the distance he could see the lights of the castle. Turning his broom towards it, they quickly flew over miles of forest. When they reached the edge of the trees he slowly guided his broom down into a smooth landing.

The moment her feet touched the ground Hermione toppled off the broom, lying on her side.

"Never again!" Draco shouted as he dismounted and threw the broom away from him with all his strength. "I am never going in that fucking forest ever again! Every time I – Hermione?"

He broke off, noticing that she still hadn't moved. He knelt down next to her and gently turned her over.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes were closed and her face was deathly pale in the dim light of the wands. There was a rip in the shoulder of her jumper, the material covered in some sort of thick white liquid. He touched it and it burnt his fingers like acid.

"No … oh, no no no!"

His hands dipped beneath the rip in the material of her jumper and he felt along her skin. Sure enough, he found a huge gash wrapping all the way around her shoulder. He pulled his hand back and it was covered in blood, looking like a black glove in the darkness.

He remembered the spider on her back – the menacing black pincers – the venomous saliva that had dripped from its mouth.

"Hermione?" He rolled her over onto her back, being careful of her shoulder, and cupped her face. He bent his head down to her chest – when her heartbeat met his ears he felt he could die of relief. "Hermione, can you hear me?"

She opened her eyes and his relief was replaced by pure horror. Instead of the beautiful brown depths he had expected, her pupils were repulsive, milky blue orbs amidst the bloodshot whites.

She was blind.

He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Its going to be alright, you're going to be fine, I'm right here," he said as reassuringly as possible.

"Draco …" she moaned.

He felt for her pulse again and felt a rush of genuine terror. Her heart was slowing, stopping …

"No!" he screamed. "Hermione, stay with me!"

* * *

hope you guys dont mind cliff hanger! *cowers in fear* dont kill me!

anywho ... review?

if you have nothing else to say, why not tell me your favourite book?

=D


	5. The Longest Night

AUTHOURS NOTE – teeeeeny bit gory, so consider yourselves warned!

Also, Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, though if Draco comes on sale I'm going to be first in line! ;)

* * *

Draco kicked open the door of the hospital wing and carried Hermione's limp body inside.

"Help!" he yelled towards the office at the far end as he set her gently down on one of the beds. "Help, please! Somebody - help me!"

Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out of the office, pulling a dressing gown on over a long white nightdress, lighting the lamps with a flick of her wand. She gasped when she saw Hermione lying on the bed with Draco standing over her wild eyed and holding two wands. He was covered in mud and blood, gasping for breath and sweating from his sprint across the grounds holding Hermione's unconscious body in his arms.

"My goodness, what's happened?" she demanded, bustling over to examine Hermione, who had started to thrash when Draco had put her down.

"In the forest – massive spiders – bitten -" he panted.

"Acromantula bite?" Madame Pomfrey asked, alarmed.

He nodded.

"Where?"

"On her – shoulder."

As the matron examined the rip in Hermione's jumper, her thrashing increased. She was moaning, biting her lip as she writhed. Her eyes were closed.

"Help me get this off," Madame Pomfrey instructed, gesturing to the bloodied jumper. She pulled Hermione into a sitting position so Draco could grasp the hem of her t-shirt and jumper and pull them both over her head, which was difficult as she struggled in his arms.

Her skin was pale as death and mostly covered in blood. Her light pink bra was also stained a lurid red. He thought about all the times he had fantasised about seeing Hermione unclothed and silently cursed himself, fully understanding for the first time the phrase 'be careful what you wish for'.

The cut wrapped all the way around her entire right shoulder where the spiders' pincers had closed over it, oozing blood with each feeble pulse of her heart. It was deep and wide, severing the muscle. The skin around the bite was a decaying yellow and looked horribly spongy, while the jagged edges were coated in the spiders' poison, eating away at her flesh. A small white patch of bone caught the hospital lights, making Draco sway on his feet.

Madame Pomfrey examined the cut, pushing lightly down on the skin. Hermione started to spasm in earnest now. Spittle ran over her lips and down her chin as she shrieked in pain.

"Stop it, you're hurting her!" he shouted.

"Mr Malfoy we have to stop the spread of the poison," she said, conjuring tourniquets out of thin air. "I need you to restrain her."

"How?"

"Any way possible!"

Draco tried to pin her legs and arms, while Madame Pomfrey attempted to secure the tourniquets around her upper arms and thighs to stop the poison reaching the rest of her body, but he still couldn't stop her from thrashing. The more he tried, the more she writhed and fought him. One of her flailing hands caught him in a stunning blow across the mouth, splitting his lip.

"Mr Malfoy, you have to hold her down!" the matron said urgently.

Cursing under his breath, Draco climbed onto the bed and straddled her thighs, grabbing at her wrists to pin them over her head. It seemed a crude, sadistically twisted mockery of his fantasies, making him wonder exactly what he had done to deserve this sort of punishment.

Her horrible, milky blue eyes flew open and she looked up at him blindly. A starburst of red blossomed in one of the whites as a blood vessel burst. She bucked and struggled beneath him, sounding positively possessed as she howled and screamed, but couldn't get free.

Madame Pomfrey tied off the last of the tourniquets and pointed her wand at Hermione. "Petrificus Totalis!" she said firmly.

Hermione's screams stopped as her body went rigid, frozen in her macabre position on the bed. Only her eyes moved, rolling madly in the sockets in a way that Draco was sure would haunt his nightmares for weeks.

Madame Pomfrey was bent over the gash on her shoulder, passing her wand over it and muttering a complicated spell under her breath. He clambered off Hermione's unresponsive body and knelt down on the floor, level with her head. Her blind eyes turned towards him, as if she could sense him there, and he could have sworn he saw fear in them.

In an attempt to sooth her he started to murmur a story in her ear. It was a silly fairy tale that every child in the magical world knew. A witch-princess who had her magic stolen from her, who had been locked in a tower and was guarded by a dragon that was actually a wizard, cursed into a monster. Hermione's eyes gradually drifted shut as he whispered about great spells, valiant duels and the love that grew between the witch and the dragon.

Madame Pomfrey sighed, making Draco look up in the middle of his story. She looked weary and exhausted. "I have stopped the spread of the poison and she is no longer in pain," she told him. "But it is beyond my skill to purge it from the body without the appropriate antidote. I need you to go fetch Professor Snape, as fast as you can."

"He's in the Dark Forest," he said, climbing to his feet, wincing at how stiff his legs had gone. "We were supposed to be collecting Nightshade -"

"Then run and find him, Mr Malfoy!" Madame Pomfrey urged. He looked down at Hermione, reluctant to leave her. "Now!"

Coming back to his senses, he ran down the length of the hospital wing. He paused at the door and turned back.

"Acromantula venom – is it lethal?" he asked.

Madame Pomfrey looked up from her ministrations on Hermione. "That depends on how fast you run."

He ran.

Draco's feet thudded down the corridors and he practically fell down the marble staircase in his haste. Then he was out the castle doors, streaking across the ground like a ghost. When he got to the forest he pulled out both wands, and lit them, pausing to find the path he, Hermione and Snape had taken into the forest what seemed like days ago. After a moments frantic searching, he found it and was running again.

He reached the fork in the path and skidded to a halt. He bent over gasping, clutching the stitch in his side. When he had recovered somewhat he straightened up, looking around him into the darkness.

Checking his watch, he saw that they still had about forty minutes before they were supposed to meet Snape at this fork. Snape would be on his way back to this point.

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing his body for the further torture it was about to face, and sprinted up the path on the right.

He ran for nearly ten minutes before he practically collided with his teacher, not seeing him in his black robes in the darkness.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, and then doubled over coughing.

"Draco, what on earths wrong? Where is Miss Granger?"

"Hospital wing – Madame Pomfrey – needs – you," he said in great gasps, gulping in air.

"What happened?"

"Hermione – hurt – spiders – Acromantula – bitten."

"Let's go."

Snape grabbed his arm and turned him around, urging him into a run. Draco groaned as his legs and lungs protested viciously, but he pictured Hermione's face in his mind and forced himself to keep running.

He wondered, in the small part of his brain that wasn't focused on not tripping over, just how many miles he had run this evening, back and forward between the castle and the forest. He knew it was more than he had ever run in his life.

They cleared the edge of the trees and started up towards the castle. The uphill incline burned his legs as cold sweat dribbled down his face and back.

Belatedly, he realised that every breath out he was saying Hermione's name, like a chant.

When they reached the entrance hall Snape headed towards the door to the dungeons.

"Where are – you going?" Draco half shouted.

Snape, he saw, was just as out of breath as he was, his sallow skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. "I need my – potions ingredients – to make the – antidote."

Draco looked longingly up the marble staircase, wanting nothing more that to run up and check on her. Snape saw his look and gestured up the stairs. "Go."

He took the stairs two at a time and jogged down the corridors until he banged his way into the hospital wing.

"How is she?" he asked, kneeling next to her bed again. Madame Pomfrey had taken off the body-bind curse and dressed Hermione in one of the hospital gowns. Beneath the material he could see a white bandage over her shoulder, already stained with a flower of blood.

"Not good. I've tried to close the wound, but the venom stops the skin from healing. Where is Professor Snape?"

"He's coming," he said, not taking his eyes from Hermione's face. He reached out and touched her skin. It burned with uncontrollable fever and felt dry to his touch, like all the moisture in her body had been seared away in the heat. Her blind eyes roved under her eyelids as if she dreamed.

He barely noticed when Snape came in, carrying a bag of ingredients, a collapsible cauldron and several glass jars. Madame Pomfrey had taken off the bandage and was rubbing some sort of ointment he had given her into the laceration. Snape was setting up the cauldron next to the bed, lighting a fire underneath it before he started throwing things in. Everything just seemed like a blur to Draco, all he saw was Hermione.

He heard them talking, but the words just seemed to drift through his mind without even registering.

"Worse than I thought … the venom … blind … poor girl … her parents … not long … only a few hours left."

"Is she going to die?" he heard himself ask, his lips numb. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away or underwater. It didn't sound like his voice at all.

The thought of never seeing her again, never arguing with her, sent an icy knife through his heart. Did that mean he loved her? he wondered, but found he couldn't answer himself.

It would be practically his fault if she did die – if he hadn't kissed her, if they hadn't argued, if they hadn't been caught then this would never have happened to her. Somewhere, far back in his mind, he knew that was absurd, but it still didn't stop him from wanting to throw himself off the Astronomy Tower.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, helping him up and leading him away. He blinked, and then saw it was Snape.

"Draco, I want you to go wake up Professor McGonagall. She is Miss Granger's head of house and will know how to contact her parents."

"I want to stay," he said thickly.

"There is nothing you can do here, Draco. The best thing you can do for Miss Granger right now is go get Professor McGonagall.

"I want to stay with her," he repeated.

"She is in a very bad condition. The sooner her parents can get here, the better." Snape said reasonably.

Draco looked up at him, trying to think of an excuse to stay, but all he could think of was his complete selfishness. Here he was wondering what he would do without her, wondering whether or not he loved her, when there were actually people who _did_ love her, who needed to know.

"The quicker you are, the quicker you will be back," Snape added.

He nodded, and with that thought in mind he ran out of the hospital wing. The corridors were dark and empty around him as he headed to the Transfiguration corridor. Normally he could run the length of the school without even breaking a sweat, but after the trials his body had been through both mentally and physically that night, he was out of breath again by the time he had arrived at McGonagall's door.

He half collapsed against the door frame, panting, and then banged his fist repeatedly on the door until she answered, pulling on her tartan dressing gown and wearing a livid expression.

"What the blazes is going – Mr Malfoy?"

He explained what had happened as fast as he could without breathing too deeply to aggravate the stitch that felt like it had been permanently sawed into his side. When he was done McGonagall stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open.

"The venom, is it dangerous?"

"Deadly," he nodded, and then repeated Snapes' request to contact her parents.

He followed McGonagall back into the office and watched as she pulled out a black address book with the label 'student contact information'. She riffled through it for a moment, and then pulled an odd looking muggle contraption towards her. It looked old fashioned and had a strange dial with numbers on it. McGonagall pulled a part of it off, though it remained attached by a thin wire.

She looked up at him, as if remembering he was there, her finger poised over the numbers. "Mr Malfoy, I would like you to go the Gryffindor Tower and rouse Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. They are her closest friends and should be there for her."

Draco stared her. "But I don't know where -"

"Do you know the portrait of the Fat Lady in the pink dress?"

He nodded. That wasn't far from here.

"The portrait is a doorway to the common room." She turned to address a picture of a witch in red who had been watching their conversation interestedly. "Morgana? Run to the Fat Lady's portrait and ensure that she lets Mr Malfoy in. Tell her it's an emergency."

"Yes Minerva," the witch said, vanishing out of the side of her picture.

Professor McGonagall started pressing the buttons on the strange device. She realised he was still there. "Go, Mr Malfoy!"

"Oh," He turned around and sprinted up the corridor again. Ahead of him he could see the witch in red streaking through the portraits, leaving the other occupants disgruntled at being woken up. He put on a burst of speed and over took her easily.

He skidded to a halt in front of the sleeping portrait. "I need to get in," he shouted to wake her.

She opened her eyes, looking highly affronted. "Password?"

"I don't know!"

"No password, no entrance," she said loftily, looking down at him suspiciously.

Draco pulled out both wands and pointed them at her. "Damn it, I need to get in _now!_"

The witch in red suddenly appeared in the Fat Lady's frame. She was gasping and leant against the Lady for support. "Minerva says – it's an emergency. You have to – let him in."

The Fat Lady considered this for a moment, and then swung on her hinges.

When he ran past her the first thing Draco noticed about the Gryffindor common room was just how different it was to his own. The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons, with stone walls and decorated silver and green, whereas the Gryffindor common room exuded a sense of warmness and comfort, all deep reds and golds.

He could easily imagine Hermione in here, sitting doing her work or reading or simply just laughing with her friends. Friends who he now had to tell what had happened.

"Potter! Weasley!" he shouted towards the stairs on the far side of the common room. He heard muffled exclamations from up the stairs.

He caught sight of himself in a mirror above the smouldering fire and almost didn't recognise himself. He was carrying two wands and his eyes seemed to hold a wild, half mad light in them. His golden hair was filthy, hanging lankly over a face that held a gauntness that hadn't been there a few hours ago. His clothes and skin were covered with mud, blood and the white spiders secretion, while his hands were stained a ghastly red from were he had touched Hermione's wound. Blood from his split lip had ran down his chin and throat, mingling with the sweat and dirt there.

The Gryffindors emerged cautiously at the top of the stairs wearing pyjamas and dressing gowns, holding wands and looking down at him with a mixture of shock and wariness. They were all whispering. He saw Harry and Ron in the crowd.

"Potter, Weasley, you have to come to the hospital wing - now," he told them.

"Why?" Potter said, eyeing him guardedly.

"Hermione -"

"_What the hell have you done to her, Malfoy?_" Weasley snarled, his wand pointing at him threateningly. Draco didn't know how the red haired, gangly boy managed to pull of menacing and dangerous while wearing paisley pyjamas that came to above his ankles, but he somehow managed it.

"Nothing," he replied. "She -"

"Is she alright?" Potter interrupted.

Draco shook his head. "No. Dying, maybe."

"Dying?" Weasley whispered, his face turning stark and his wand drooping in his hand. Potter looked like he had been struck on the head with something heavy. The rest of the Gryffindors all wore shocked expressions and were shaking their heads, still whispering to each other.

Draco didn't think he had ever seen either of them look quite so vulnerable or fearful, but surprisingly he felt no pleasure at seeing them reduced to that state. Probably because he felt the same way.

"Are you coming or not?" he demanded.

The two Gryffindor boys glanced at each other, and then nodded. Draco turned on his heel and strode out of the still open portrait hole, running again when he reached the corridor. He heard them sprint to catch up, the judgemental whispers of the other students cut off as the portrait swung shut behind them.

"What happened?" Weasley said as they caught up, running alongside him.

"We were attacked by spiders in the forest -"

"Aragog?" Potter asked.

"What?"

"Nothing – what happened?"

"Attacked. Hermione was bitten. She -" Draco's voice broke slightly as he remembered his horror when she opened her eyes. "She was blind."

Weasley made a choking noise, but kept running.

They were nearly at the hospital wing when Filch stepped out of a side passage at the other end of the corridor. He saw them hurtling towards him and a delighted smile spread over his face. "So you're what's been making all the noise. I'll have you out of this school, my boys, you mark my -"

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted as he ran, shooting a jet of red light at the caretaker. Filch fell over backwards and the three of them jumped over him and burst into the hospital wing.

The curtains had been erected around Hermione's bed, hiding her from few. He rushed forward, intending to rip them open to see her, but Professor McGonagall stepped around them before he got there.

"How is -?"

"She's still alive," McGonagall said grimly, her tone telling him everything he needed to know about her condition, that Hermione was hovering somewhere between life and death. She looked at Harry and Ron. "You're here. I'm afraid the situation doesn't look good."

"How bad?" Potter whispered.

"The fever is at its crisis point and it appears that the venom has reached her brain, but there's a chance it might have been diluted enough not to do permanent damage. But that won't even matter if her fever doesn't break soon."

Weasley sank down onto one of the beds, burying his face in his hands. Potter stayed standing, but his face was pale, the lightning scar standing out in sharp relief under his tousled hair. "Why don't you take her to St Mungo's?" he asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "Moving her would do little good now. If you will excuse me, I have to go see to the arrival of Hermione's parents."

"What can we do?" Draco asked desperately, wanting to do _something_ to help.

"Nothing. All you can do now, I'm afraid, is wait."

She left.

And so they waited.

And waited.

And waited …

It was the longest night Draco could remember in his whole life. Silence reigned in the hospital wing as the early hours of the morning passed in a dark blur. Weasley still had his head in his hands, while Potter had moved to the window, staring bleakly out into the night. Draco stayed rooted in place, staring at the white curtains, waiting for the moment when they would open.

The first rays of the dawn crept over the windowsill and far in the distance he heard the early risers of the school begin to make their way down to the great hall, but still none of the moved. They kept waiting.

Eventually, after an eternity, the curtains around Hermione twitched aside and Snape stepped though. He looked utterly exhausted, his eyes sunk low into the sockets, making his skin look even sallower.

All three boys raised their gazes to him, still waiting.

"She's sleeping," he said hoarsely.

"She's alive?" Draco breathed.

Snape nodded.

Potter let out a great sigh, like he had been holding his breath the whole time and Weasley laughed in relief and ran his hands though his hair, making it stand on end. Even Snape almost smiled as he picked up his things and left the hospital wing, though it seemed more of a grimace than a smile.

Madame Pomfrey opened the curtains around Hermione, revealing her sleeping figure. The covers were drawn up around her chest and a white bandage had been tied over her eyes.

"Try not to wake her," she whispered, looking just as tired as Snape. Both boys instantly ran to her side, sitting on the bed next to her. Potter leant forward and kissed her lightly, chastely on her forehead while Weasley grabbed her hand and held it tenderly to his face, his eyes closed in sheer happiness.

The three of them seemed so _together_, the way best friends should be. It was such an intimate moment that Draco felt he was intruding, that he shouldn't watch. He was dying to go over to her himself, but he knew that they would resent his presence and be suspicious of his concern – after all, he was only a Slytherin.

"Is there any permanent damage?" he asked Madame Pomfrey, feeling the need to make sure she was completely alright.

"None, she should make a full recovery."

"Her eyes?"

"The blindness was an affect of the venom, the Acromantula use it to incapacitate their prey," the matron explained. "As the venom leaves her body, her sight will return."

He let out a shaky breath, and then turned to leave the hospital wing. It wasn't like he had any right to be there.

"Draco …"

Her feeble voice made him stop in his tracks and spin around. The others were looking down at her. Her head moved slightly, tilting to one side like it had before when he had whispered a story to her.

"Is Draco alright? Was he hurt?" she murmured weakly.

Potter looked between him and Hermione. "He's fine. He's here," he said reassuringly.

Draco felt himself being pulled towards her. He reached out and lightly touched her face, her lips. He felt her warm breath on his fingers when she sighed.

They were all staring at him as he gazed down at the sleeping girl. He wanted nothing more than to stay by her side, watch her sleep and comfort her as she recovered – but knew that he couldn't.

He turned on his heel and forced himself to walk out of the hospital wing.

* * *

This was originally 2 chapters, but they have been put together juts for you - it was going to end on "He ran." but i figuresed you wouldnt like another ending like that after the last one.

Anyway, you know the drill - Review and i will give you LOVE!!!

but if you really have absolutly nothing to say about it, why not tell me the thing you hate most? (and yes, these quirky little questions will be at the bottom of all chapters!)


	6. Mud and Blood

Another fairly short one - first half is pretty random because Hermione is supposed to be delerious from the venom, and no, the dream is not prophetic in any way, just there to show the effect of the poison on her mind.

again, i dont own anything - that's J K (lucky woman!)

* * *

_There was pain, so much pain. _

"Hermione, can you hear me?"_ a voice asked. The voice was familiar, but different. Her head was pounding. She couldn't remember who it was, but she knew it was important to reply._"It's going to be alright, you're going to be fine, I'm right here," _the figure murmured. Again, she had the sensation that there was something different about the voice. What was it? Who was it, this blond angel?_

_She opened her eyes. Her vision was clouded. Everything was so dark. She could hardly see._

_The blurred figure of a blond angel bent over her._

_And then she realised. It was concern – not only concern, but horror and even fear. It sounded different because he wasn't drawling his words as he usually did._

"Draco …" _she whispered. She could hardly see him anymore. Were her eyes open? The darkness was coming, a blackness that threatened to engulf her and blot out her very life. She didn't want to be left alone, she had to tell him to stay._

"No! Hermione, stay with me!"

_Yes, she wanted to say, but couldn't find her lips. Stay with me, that's what she wanted. Don't leave me alone, she thought, I don't want to be alone._

_The darkness was all around her, she was falling into nothingness._

_And then there were strong arms around her, keeping her from falling. She focused on those arms, the heartbeat she could heat pounding so much faster than her own in her ears and was able to keep the darkness at bay._

_But then the arms were gone, and the pain was coming back. Where was her anchor? She was going to drown in the crushing blackness._

_She couldn't move, couldn't even scream - she could only fall._

_Let me die, she begged silently. It's too painful, I don't want to live. Just let me die. So much pain. Let me die._

_A voice started to whisper in her ear. She couldn't understand the words, but it was a distraction from the pain. She listened desperately, holding on to this, her anchor, with all her strength. The pain was numbing, slowing, stopping – she could feel the warm touch of magic keeping it at bay._

_She dreamed …_

_A prison. A tower so tall that clouds tore themselves on it as they drifted past. She was a princess. She stood at the very top, looking down at the ground below her, her dress blowing in the wind._

_The silver dragon was fighting two knights, one with red hair and one with black, though both were clad in shining armour. They held wands instead of swords, firing spells at the dragon._

_The dragon let out a roar of pain and flared its wings, leaping into the sky. It flew to the top of her tower and alighted beside her, where it turned into a silver eyed blond boy. He turned and smiled, before vanishing._

_She was dimly aware of the poison in her veins, carrying the polluted blood to the rest of her body, yet it was no longer painful. She could no longer quite distinguish between her dreams and reality. Had they fought spiders or dragons? Was she a princess or a witch?_

_Gradually something began to give her clarity. It was a new liquid that ran through her veins like fire, burning away the effect of the poison. She could remember –_

"Draco …"_ she whispered._

_She could see the spiders closing in around them, Draco had his broom, he was shouting for her to get on and then – nothing._

"Is Draco alright? Was he hurt?"

_She hadn't realised she had said the words out loud until someone replied, telling her he was fine, he was here with her._

_Cool fingertips touched her face and she sighed before slipping back into her dreams._

***

Draco walked slowly from the hospital wing towards the Slytherin dormitories. The few people he saw skirted around him in the corridors as if he had some sort of disease or was dangerous in some way, probably because he was still covered in dirt and blood. He ignored the stares and no one spoke to him until he reached the common room.

He paused when he reached the blank stone wall that acted as a doorway to the common room. "Snake eyes," he muttered dully, making the panel slide open.

"Draco!" Pansy cried, running over. She seemed reluctant to touch him now. "What _happened?_"

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said dismissively, starting to walk around her.

"Nothing? You're covered in mud and blood!"

Mud. Blood. Mudblood. Hermione. He was covered in her blood and it hadn't even crossed his mind that he should be repulsed by it. He stared down at his filthy hands, the lurid red had faded out to a dull brown now, just as all blood did as it dried. His father had lied, mudblood blood wasn't dirty in any way - nor was it any different to his own …

"Draco?" Pansy said hesitantly, and he realised he had been silent for a while. By now the entire Slytherin common room was staring at him.

"It's not my blood. I'm fine," he mumbled.

He could see Crabbe and Goyle sitting on a sofa, eating as they stared gormlessly, and he felt a pang of irritation and loneliness – he considered them his best friends, yet they didn't have anything like the relationship Hermione had with her friends. They would never have stayed up by his bedside all night in the hospital wing if he was hurt, and he had never really even had an intelligent conversation with them. They had been essentially picked out by his father simply because he knew their fathers. They weren't his friends at all, he understood suddenly, they were his bodyguards.

"Draco?" Pansy was looking truly worried now – but she wasn't worried about him, she was worried about the fantasy image of the rich pure-blood boyfriend she had made up. He realised, for the first time, just how much he hated her and her fawning ways.

"Just leave me alone," he practically snarled at her, stalking to his dormitory and slamming the door viciously behind him.

He leant back against the door and put his head in his hands, feeling utterly alone. He was nothing but a trophy to girls, a valuable commodity that needed protecting to his friends and nothing more than a pedigree son to his family, shaped to become just like his father and carry on the bloodline. They didn't care about _him_. Not one person in the entire god-damn world cared about him.

_Hermione cares though,_ his mind whispered. _She remembered you. Even through the pain and the poison, she remembered you. She was worried, she didn't want you to get hurt. Hermione cares._

* * *

You know i love reviews ...

how about you give me a random fact - can be anything you like, for example - You burn more calories sleeping than you do watching TV. did you know that?

anyway, please press that little button and tell me what you think =D


	7. Black, White and Grey

AUTHOURS NOTE – I don't own anything except the plot! This is kinda randomly written because Hermione can't actually _see_, so the descriptions were hard!

Also, sorry this took so long to put up – busy busy time in my life at the moment!

* * *

Hermione stirred slightly, and tried to open her eyes – nothing. She raised her hand to the blindfold covering her face and then remembered.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice said.

"Ginny?"

"Hermione, you're awake! Hey guys, she's awake!"

She heard sudden footsteps coming closer to the bed and felt a couple of people sitting down on the covers.

"How do you feel?" Ron asked as a hand, presumably his, lightly swept some hair off her face.

"Umm, better, I think," she replied, pushing herself up into a sitting position and feeling a little disoriented. "What day is it?"

"It's Sunday, you've been asleep a whole day," Harry said. Sunday – she and Draco had their detention in the forest on Friday night. "What happened, Hermione?"

"Yeah, Malfoy was a little vague on the details," George put in.

Hermione tried to remember what had happened, but after jumping on the back of Draco's broom the memories were just a hazy blur of pain. "What did he tell you?"

"He didn't, actually," Fred said. "He just burst into the common room -"

"Covered in your blood," Ginny chimed in.

"Brandishing two wands and started shouting about how you were dying," Fred finished.

Harry chuckled. "Ron was about ready to curse him into oblivion. We all thought he had done something terrible to you."

"It was all very dramatic," George said cheerfully. "If we hadn't all been so worried, it would have been very entertaining."

"Well I'm glad to know that my potential death amuses you," Hermione said dryly, and they all laughed.

"Is she awake?" she heard the voice of Madame Pomfrey ask, her bustling footsteps coming closer. "Excuse me please, boys." There was a slight shuffling, and then she felt someone taking her pulse.

"I was bitten, wasn't I?" Hermione asked the matron. "Is that why I can't see?"

"Yes, it's an effect of the venom," she answered. "Don't worry, it's only temporary.

Hermione nodded to herself, she remembered reading about the blinding affects of the Acromantula's venom.

"How did I get up here?" She wondered out loud. She and Draco had been in the middle of the forest, miles from the castle, yet spider's venom would have been so fast acting that she should only have had minutes to live.

"Young Mr Malfoy came banging in here with you cradled in his arms, shouting that he needed help" the matron said noncommittally as she checked the bandage on her shoulder, not realising the effect her words were having on Hermione. "He was seemed very shaken up and was extremely reluctant to leave your side. Professor Snape had to practically force him from the room to fetch Professor McGonagall."

"That doesn't sound like Malfoy at all," Ron said. Hermione could tell from his voice that he was frowning.

"He saved my life," she whispered to herself, slightly awed. She could remember him shouting for her to get behind him as the spiders approached, the panic in his voice when she had been hurt and the way he had picked her up, the strong heartbeat in her chest that had been her lifeline in the darkness. He must have carried her all the way from the forest, she realised.

"Why though?" Harry asked, sounding perplexed. "I mean, he's a Slytherin."

"That doesn't mean he's not -" She broke off and bit he lip, wondering how she could explain her newfound empathy for Draco. She had always sympathised with Harry for living with the Dursley's, but now she realised Draco's upbringing had been far worse.

She remembered the way his eyes had blazed as he had told her of the horrors in his childhood. She had been shocked and confused, able to make the connection from that poor abused child to the arrogant young man in front of her far to easily, and hating the sudden rush of sympathy she had for her enemy. She had said he was just like his father, but his father would never have carried her broken body in his arms or stayed by her bedside.

"Not what, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing," she sighed. She wanted to tell them this new opinion of Draco, but knew it was not her place to tell another persons secrets. They wouldn't believe her anyway.

There was a slight pause.

"Your parents are coming up, they should be here tomorrow," George told her.

"Really?" Her parents had always wanted to see Hogwarts. She smiled to herself, imagining showing them the moving portraits and shifting staircases.

"Yep," Fred replied. "But we better go, Hermione, or we won't be getting any dinner,"

"That's fine, I'm probably going to go back to sleep anyway."

"We'll come back and visit at break tomorrow," Ron promised.

"Here, wait a moment. I almost forgot, we bought this down for you too," Harry said, and a book was pressed into her hands. She ran her fingers over the familiar cover, feeling her smile widen. Her friends knew her so well.

"It was Ron's idea," Ginny told her. "Even though you can't read it yet, he said you probably wouldn't be able to sleep without _Hogwarts: A History_ by your bed."

"Besides, you know it so well you could probably just open it to any page and be able to read it by heart," Ron said sounding both pleased and a little embarrassed.

"Thanks guys," she said, letting all her love and affection for her friends show in her voice. "Will you put it on the bedside table for me?"

The book was lifted from her hands and she heard a muted thud as it was put down. She frowned, suddenly remembering something that was missing. "Is my wand there, by any chance?"

There was another pause, and she heard objects on her bedside table being moved around as one of them searched.

"Its not here," Ginny said.

"Malfoy had it," Ron said slowly. "When he came in the common room."

"You think he's still got it?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. But if we see him at dinner, we will get it off him for you, okay Hermione?"

"Okay, and thanks guys."

"No problem," Ron said.

There was a chorus of goodbyes and Hermione was suddenly overwhelmed by a series of hair ruffles, hugs and a kisses on her cheek. And then they were gone.

She leant back against her pillow and sighed. Everything had been so much easier when she had seen the world in black and white, but it now turned out that Draco was a highly infuriating and incomprehensible shade of grey. She could no longer place him with the Slytherins or see him as a future Death Eater, following in his fathers footsteps, but nor could she imagine him fighting alongside them or joining the Order as she planned to do the moment she graduated.

She thought about the way he had kissed her in the Prefect Bathroom, and then the way he had pinned her against the tree in the forest with a hand wrapped around her neck. She should have been terrified, since she had been wandless and restrained by an angry Slytherin she had just been tormenting, yet all she had been able to think about was the heat that had emanated from his body as it had pressed completely up against hers.

The door of the hospital wing opened and she heard soft footsteps coming down the ward. She tilted her head towards the sound. "Who's there?"

Whoever it was gradually approached her bed, and she felt the person sit down on the covers next to her.

Lips suddenly brushed against her own, startling her. He kissed her softly for a moment, and then sighed. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, leaving her incapable of speech.

He pressed her wand into her hand and then stood up before starting to walk away.

"Draco?"

The footsteps paused.

"Thank you for saving my life," she murmured.

"Don't mention it, Granger," he replied, though he sounded tired.

"Do you want to stay a while?" she asked nervously fiddling with her wand, not sure how he would respond.

"Would you like me too?" He sounded a little shocked, as if he hadn't expected her to ask such a thing.

"Yes," she said honestly.

"Then I'll stay." She felt him sit back down on the covers. "What have you got there?"

"What?"

"_Hogwarts: A History_." She could hear him riffling through the book.

"Oh, Harry bought it down from the common room for me."

"Why?" Draco asked, sounding sceptical. "It's not like you can read it."

"No, but I like having it there." She laughed to herself, remembering all the times Harry and Ron had teased her about her love of the book. "I practically know it off by heart. I'm rereading it for about the hundredth time."

"Where abouts are you?"

"The forth part. The purging of the trolls from the forest – though clearly they forgot about the spiders."

Draco laughed and flicked a few of the pages before starting to read aloud to her. Hermione burrowed deeper under the covers as she listened to him talk. He wasn't drawling his words as he normally did, and she noticed for the first time just how appealing his voice was when he wasn't being nasty or boastful.

He had just got to the ghost revolution when Madame Pomfrey's footsteps came towards them again.

"Five minutes Mr Malfoy, visiting hours are almost over."

"Alright," he said, closing the book.

"You should be able to read the book again for yourself Miss Granger, I believe the blindfold can come off tomorrow," Madame Pomfrey told her as she fluffed her pillows.

"Good," Hermione sighed. Draco's lulling voice had made her sleepy.

Madame Pomfrey stopped her fussing. "Mr Malfoy, you should really let me heal that for you."

"No, it's not necessary," he said.

"Here, I insist – Episkey!"

"Oh, well thanks."

"What was it?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Spilt lip," Draco replied.

"How?"

"You did it Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said as she straightened the covers.

"I did?"

"Yes, when you were convulsing due to the poison. Mr Malfoy was trying to restrain you."

"Oh," was all she could say.

"Remember Mr Malfoy, five minutes." The matrons' footsteps receded down the ward as she left, leaving them in silence for a long moment.

"Draco, what really happened last night?" she said eventually.

"How much do you remember?" he asked softly. He took her hand and started playing with her fingers.

"Not much. The last thing I remember clearly is getting on the back of your broom."

He sighed unhappily. "A spider jumped on your back," was all he said.

"And?" she prompted.

He was quiet for a long moment, and then she heard him swallow nervously. "I killed it."

"How?" she asked, shocked. "None of the spells were working …"

There was a long silence. She could feel him still sitting on the bed, though he was stiff and unmoving. His hand was curled into a fist in hers.

"Draco?" she said timidly, stroking the back of his hand.

"I used Avada Kedavra," he whispered, sounding horrified at himself. Then he continued, his words coming quicker than normal. "I don't know how it happened. I wasn't even thinking. It just came out."

Hermione was stunned, unable to speak at first. He had used an Unforgivable Curse, yet he had done it to save her life.

"And then?"

Draco sucked in a shocked breath. He must have thought she would be appalled and frightened by his actions. His hand loosened in hers, and his fingers wandered in an aimless trail over her palm as he told her the rest of the story in a low voice.

"You stayed with me?" she breathed, as he finished the story.

"Of course," he said simply.

He had risked his life to save her, and then stayed by her side – her, a mudblood and a Gryffindor. He really was not the person she had thought he was.

"Kiss me again," she whispered to him.

He released her hand and she felt cool fingers just under the edge of her jaw, tilting her face upward.

She heard the door at he far end of the ward open, and his hands dropped from her face.

"You've had nearly ten minutes, Miss Granger needs rest," Madame Pomfrey called.

Draco sighed, and lightly kissed her forehead. "I'll be back soon," he murmured, before she heard his footsteps heading out of the hospital wing.

* * *

Ya'll know I love reviews – what's your favourite TV program?

=D


	8. To Mingle With Muggles

**Authors note …. **_**sorry **_**about the long wait – I've been absolutely swamped with course work that counts towards my final grade and which uni I get into, along with finishing my other veela Dramione (which I may not start posting on here …) **

**anyway, like I said, sorry! also, sorry for not replying to reviews / messages – I assure you all of them were read and appreciated! =D**

**Tell you what, to make it up to you, I'll post THREE chapters! **

**also, I own nothing but the plot, J K has that pleasure. **

* * *

The next morning Draco got up early and went to the great hall before his friends were up. Crabbe and Goyle's tiny minds were so focused on food that they probably wouldn't even notice he wasn't there. The only person who would care was Pansy, but thankfully she was still sulking from his outburst the other night and was ignoring him – except to cast him hurt looks.

The hall was practically deserted, with only a few other early risers yawning their way through a bowl of porridge. Reaching the Slytherin table, he grabbed a napkin and piled it with toast to take with him to the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey looked up from the bedclothes she was straightening as he came in. "It's a little early for a visit, don't you think Mr Malfoy?"

"I thought I would bring her some breakfast," he said, holding up his pile of toast.

Madame Pomfrey frowned for a moment, and then sighed. "Alright then."

"Thanks," Draco said with a smile, sidling around her.

"Oh, and Mr Malfoy? Could you please tell her that she can take the blindfold off, and I will be over in a few minutes to check her eyes," the matron said, gathering up the bed linen with a sweep of her wand.

"No problem."

Draco walked down to the far end of the ward where Hermione was asleep in one of the hospital beds. She was curled on her side, burrowed underneath the covers with her hair splayed out over the pillow. She looked so peaceful that he almost didn't want to wake her up – almost.

He put his lips near her ear. "Hermione, you've over slept, you're going to be late for class!"

She sat up suddenly and tried to look around her before remembering the blindfold, raising her fingers to touch it.

He couldn't help himself, her frantic expression set him laughing. She turned towards the sound and frowned at him.

"That wasn't funny, Malfoy."

"Malfoy again now is it?" he chuckled. "One little joke and you're back to using my surname?"

Her lips twitched in a slight smile.

"Ahh, you see? I'm already forgiven," he said as he sank down on the covers beside her.

"What makes you think so?" she asked with playful cynicism.

"You're smiling – that means you've forgiven me." He put the toast down on top of _Hogwarts: A History_ so he could take off her blindfold for her.

"You're hopeless," she said, shaking her head.

"I never said I was anything but." He reached up so he could untie the blindfold, but Hermione's hands came up and caught his wrists.

"What are you doing?"

"Madame Pomfrey said the blindfold could come off, and I thought you might want something pretty to look at the first time you opened your eyes again," he said, freeing his hands so he could continue undoing the knot at the back of her head.

"How considerate of you," Hermione muttered a little sarcastically.

"Considerate is my middle name – well actually is chivalrous, but who really cares." She laughed slightly. He finished untying the knot and pulled the blindfold away.

She had kept her eyes tightly shut. "You're in a good mood this morning."

"Why shouldn't I be?" He leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips against her own, making her jump slightly.

"Open your eyes, Hermione," he ordered gently.

She squeezed her eyes tighter for a brief second, and then slowly opened them.

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding as he stared into the chocolate brown depths. The milky blue had gone, leaving her eyes clear as glass and even more beautiful than he remembered.

Hermione laughed and reached out to touch his face briefly. "I can see _perfectly!_"

Her delight was infectious, and Draco felt his own face split into a wide smile at her happiness. As she grinned he saw something different about her he had never noticed before.

"Your teeth!" he said without thinking.

She looked worried now, raising a hand to feel her teeth. "What about them?"

"Nothing, I just – I just noticed they were different." And they were _very_ different, the buck-teeth the Slytherins had so often teased her about were gone.

"Remember that hex you put on me?" she asked, still smiling. She obviously didn't mind telling him this.

He winced, "I was aiming for Potter, you know."

He remembered how hilarious he had found it at the time, when his misdirected spell had hit her instead, making her teeth grow at an alarming rate. He had laughed along with his classmates for weeks after, doing impressions of her, but looking back he now felt ridiculously guilty.

"Well I never actually thanked you for that. If it hadn't been for your little hex, I would still have my old teeth."

"Oh, well, your welcome – I think."

She laughed at his confusion, then her eyes drifted to the side and she spotted the pile of toast. "Is that for me?"

"Not all of it." He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it. "I thought you Gryffindors were big on sharing?"

"Nope. That's the Hufflepuffs." She plucked the toast from his hand, her eyes sparking, and popped it in her mouth.

"Hey!"

She laughed, and they both grabbed for another piece of toast.

He had never had conversations like this with any of his Slytherin friends. If you tried stealing food from Crabbe or Goyle they would use one of the few curses they knew on you, whereas Pansy would have just tried to feed him.

Draco shook his head slightly to himself in something like wonder. He could hardly believe just being here and talking to her would have been this _fun_. Everything he had thought he had hated about her only made her more endearing now. If he wasn't careful, he would find himself falling in love with her …

"What's that look for?" Hermione asked around a mouthful of toast.

"Hmm?"

"You looked a little, I don't know, glazed I suppose. Something on your mind?"

She was far too intuitive for her own good. He was saved from replying by the arrival of Madame Pomfrey.

"How are you feeling Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Peachy," Hermione replied with a smile.

Draco snorted with laughter, and tried to hide it by pretending to choke on his toast. She actually said _peachy_.

He watched as Madame Pomfrey conducted a series of tests for Hermione's eyes, asking things like how far she could read and how long it took for her wand to go out of focus when she bought it close to her eyes. After a few minutes she pronounced her fine, and said she would be discharging her later in the day.

"Reminds me of being at the opticians," Hermione muttered as she left.

"What?"

"The opticians," she explained. "It's a kind of muggle doctor who look at people's eyes."

"How many kinds of muggle doctors are there then?" Draco asked, leaning back against the pillows beside her.

"Why do you ask?" Hermione wanted to know. She was frowning, but he wasn't sure why.

"I'm curious." He shrugged. "I don't know all that much about the muggle world."

"Oh. Well there are opticians who look at peoples eyes, dentists who look at their teeth, surgeons who do the surgery, psychiatrists who study how people's minds work -"

"Why are there so many?" Draco interrupted, fascinated by her growing list.

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "Well I suppose muggles can't just wave a wand and make things all better like we can, they have to have specialists in each area. It's amazing the things muggles can do without magic."

"Like what?"

Draco listened as Hermione began to explain the muggle world to him. He had never been educated about muggles at all. His father had always said that they were inferior to wizards, but from the way she described their lives, he came to realise that they had simply done the best they could without magic.

She paused in the middle of her description and frowned. "Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought … shouldn't you be in Potions?" she asked.

He checked is watch, sure enough the bell had gone ten minutes ago and he hadn't even heard it. "Aw crap," he muttered, jumping up to run out of the hospital wing. "See you later!" he yelled over his shoulder, and was followed by her laughter.

He ran down through the school until he reached the dungeons. It was lucky really that he had Potions, any other teacher wouldn't have hesitated to take points away from Slytherin. Snape, on the other hand, simply paused in his lecture when Draco came in the door.

Since he was late most of the seats were taken, so he went to sit on his own at the back of the class, loosening his tie slightly as he walked. Pansy turned around in her chair and shot him a venomous look, but he honestly didn't care.

Snape was telling them about the two week project they would be doing in pairs on a topic of their choice, but Draco had started to daydream. He was thinking about all of the intriguing things Hermione had told him about muggles. He was trying to figure out the concept of _electricity_ when he realised Snape was in front of him, saying his name.

"Sorry, what?" he said, coming back to reality.

"I _said_, who are you working with?" Snape repeated icily, giving him a disapproving look he normally reserved for the Gryffindors.

"Oh, erm …" he looked around the class, but everyone had already divided into pairs.

Snape followed his look and frowned. "You shall have to partner Miss Granger when she returns," he said.

Draco felt a slow smile spread over his face as Snape turned his back to walk to the front of the class.

"You will spend this lesson devising a project plan and arranging assignments. I expect a proposal for your topic by the end of the lesson, and your final work in two weeks time." Snape ordered, addressing the whole class.

Everyone immediately turned to their neighbours and started talking. Crabbe and Goyle simply stared at each other blankly, while Pansy, who was partnering Millicent, was trying her hardest not to look at him. No one really noticed when he stood up and made his way to the front desk.

"Professor?"

Snape looked up from the third year essays he was marking, looking annoyed at being interrupted. "What is it Draco?"

He chose his words carefully. "I think it would be rather … unfair of me to decide upon a topic without Granger's input."

Snape scowled deeply. "Go consult her in the hospital wing then," he said reluctantly. "Though I still want a proposal by the end of the lesson."

"Yes Professor," he replied.

It was only when he was outside the dungeon door that he allowed himself to smile properly. This had really worked out better than he had planned. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he started to walk to the hospital wing, whistling.

* * *

"But I thought you said you hated him?" Hermione's dad asked, perplexed. "You said he was mean to you because you were muggle-born?"

"He _was_, but … I don't know, he has just been … different recently."

"Do you like him, Mione?" her mother asked teasingly. She was sitting on the bed next to her, holding her hands.

Hermione grinned at her tone. "Of course I like him. He saved my life."

Her mother gave her a slightly patronising look. "You _know_ that isn't what I meant."

"I don't know, Mum." She shrugged. "At the moment I am trying to figure out the changes in him, then I'll decide if I like him or not."

"It's not something you _decide_ Mione, it's something you _feel_." She shook her head a little despairingly.

"You always were analytical," her father said, smiling.

Hermione frowned. How _did_ she feel now about Draco Malfoy? She certainly didn't hate him anymore. She felt she understood him better, she sympathised with him and she was definitely grateful for him saving her – but did she actually like him as a person?

It was at that moment when the hospital wing door opened, and Draco himself walked in. His emerald green tie was loose around an open top button, revealing a tiny bit of the smooth white skin at his throat. He had his schoolbag tossed casually over one shoulder and was holding a sheaf of parchment in one hand. The sunlight sparkled off his messy blond hair and lit up his grey eyes.

He paused as he saw Hermione's parents.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," he said, smiling a slightly crooked smile that nearly took her breath away.

Oh yes, she thought to herself, she liked him.

* * *

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked. He could hardly believe it, but she was actually _blushing_.

He held up the project sheets Snape had given them. "I'm your Potions partner. Since I was late everyone else had already paired up."

He glanced at the two people with her, both of them looking at him interestedly. They had to be her parents, he realised. The man had the exact same dark eyes, while her mother had similar curly hair. Hermione noticed his look and made an introduction.

"Um, Draco these are my parents, Paul and Jean Granger, Mum, Dad, this is Draco Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you," Mr Granger said as he shook his hand. Draco knew that his father would probably explode with anger if he could see him now, shaking hands with a muggle. "From what Hermione has told us, you were very brave against those spiders. Thank you for saving my daughters life," he said sincerely.

"Hermione was the brave one," Draco said honestly, casting her a quick smile. "If it hadn't been for her spell we would never have held them off long enough to escape." Mr Granger looked at his daughter with affectionate pride.

"It really is a pleasure to meet you, Draco," Mrs Granger said, climbing to her feet and also extending her hand warmly.

"Likewise, Mrs Granger." Instead of shaking her hand, he kissed it lightly, for once thankful for the etiquette lessons his parents had drilled into him.

He was a little surprised at how _normal_ they seemed. From what his father had said, and the Slytherins thought of muggles, he almost expected them to be dim-witted and slow – then again, he realised, it was highly unlikely that Hermione's parents would ever be dim-witted. All his former stereotypes of muggles were being shattered over the past few days, leaving him a little confused about his own beliefs.

He was pleased though, at how easy it was to be civil and polite – he had never really talked to muggles before, and now felt absolutely no repulsion at greeting them. Won't his father be so _proud_, he thought to himself sarcastically.

"Is that the Potions assignment?" Hermione asked, pointing to the project sheets.

"Yes, the proposals have to be in by the end of the lesson, and I wanted to ask your opinion," he told her, sitting down at the end of the bed to spread the sheets between them while her parents watched in fascination.

"What were your ideas?" she wanted to know.

He frowned down at the parchment. "I was thinking how properties of ingredients can change based on factors like phases of the moon and time of the day."

"That's a very broad subject," Hermione pointed out.

"What were you thinking as a topic?" he asked as he pulled out his quill and ink, balancing them carefully on the covers.

"The advantages and disadvantages of mixing a direct antidote to a poison, as opposed to simply using several different potions that counteract the poisons effects," she said.

Draco gnawed on the end of the quill for a moment, thinking.

"How about the ways the same ingredients' properties can change depending on their growing and culling conditions to become features of either the poison or the antidote?" he suggested.

Hermione grinned, liking his compromise. "Sounds perfect."

He smiled too and wrote the heading on the sheet. "Madame Pomfrey said she'll be letting you out later, so how about we meet in the library later to sort out a plan and the assignments?"

"Let's say seven o'clock?" she said.

"I'll meet you by the poisons section," Draco said, screwing the cap back on his ink bottle.

"Are you going back to class, Draco?" Mr Ganger asked politely.

"Yes, Professor Snape will be needing this," he nodded down at the worksheet he was folding up.

He would have preferred to stay a while longer, to talk to Hermione more and find out more about her parents, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome – or push himself too hard at her and scare her off. He knew he would have to be very careful and take things slow with her if he wanted any sort of relationship.

"Not for another half an hour," Hermione pointed out. "Why don't you stay a while?"

He smiled. "Thanks, but you haven't seen your parents in months. I'm sure you don't want me here getting in your way."

Mrs Granger started to protest, but he lifted a hand to stop her. "I should be getting back to class anyway," he told her. He stood back up and extended his hand to her father, and then to her mother. "It was a pleasure to meet you Mr and Mrs Granger."

"I hope we see you again soon, Draco," Mrs Granger said sincerely, while Mr Granger nodded.

"I hope so too," he grinned. "I'll see you later, Hermione."

With a final parting wave, he picked up his bag and returned to lessons.

* * *

**review? please ….? **

**come on – least favourite food?**

**=D**


	9. Stacks, Slaves and Secret Messages

**Authors note – and the next piece, as promised …**

**J K owns all characters**

* * *

Hermione led her parents between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables to where Harry and Ron had saved them seats. She had been discharged from the hospital wing at lunchtime, and had spent the afternoon showing her parents all around the school. She had been both pleased and a little saddened by their obvious awe – it was strange that the things she now considered normal were so alien to them, it made her feel as if they were drifting apart.

Ron was bent over a piece of parchment, but he looked up and grinned as she sat down. "Almost done," he said.

"With what?" Hermione asked, helping herself to spaghetti.

He finished scrawling the last sentence and then placed the parchment in front of her with a flourish. "Here."

"What is it?" She picked it up and tried to decipher his messy handwriting.

"A copy of all the notes we took today."

Hermione was rather touched. "Thanks Ron!"

"Do you actually think she will be able to read it?" Harry asked around a mouthful of bread.

"My writings not that bad," Ron protested, making them both laugh.

"Hold up, we might have some trouble," Harry said, distracted. He was looking toward the Slytherin table.

Following his gaze, Hermione saw several Slytherins were muttering to each other, staring and even pointing at her parents who were absorbed by the transparent ceiling of the great hall. Draco, she noticed, wasn't there.

"Think we should move somewhere quieter?" Ron muttered to them under his breath.

"That's not necessary," Hermione said, casting a charm that would block out all noise from the Slytherin side of the room. She didn't want her parents subjected to any jeering or catcalling.

"That reminds me - sorry you have to partner Malfoy for Potions, we didn't think to save you a partner," Harry said, frowning in concern.

"Don't worry about it," she said, waving a fork. "He was actually very, um … civil when he came to discuss our project."

"_Malfoy_ was _civil?_" Ron repeated incredulously.

Her mother turned around. "Wasn't that the name of the nice young man who came to the hospital wing?" she asked innocently.

Hermione kicked her mothers' leg underneath the table, a silent warning and plea for her not to reveal any of their earlier conversation. "That's the one."

"Wait, he was actually nice to your _parents?_" Harry looked shocked.

"Like I said, he was civil," Hermione replied, grabbing some bread form the basket in the middle of the table. "I'm actually meeting him in the library later so we get started as soon as possible."

"I suppose the quicker you get the project done, the shorter time you have to spend with him," Harry mused.

"I don't like it," Ron frowned. "What if he tries something with her?"

"I can take care of myself," Hermione admonished, though she was thinking of the very high possibility that Draco _would_ try something and was struggling not to blush.

"Well if he does, just remember those curses we taught you in DA," Harry advised.

* * *

Draco hovered high above the Quidditch pitch, both watching his team and looking for the Snitch. He scowled – the Keeper had let four goals in, despite the sloppy job the Chasers were doing, while Crabbe and Goyle were missing most of the Bludgers that came their way. A light rain had started nearly an hour ago, but he had kept them at practice.

He ran a hand frustratedly through his drenched hair and checked his watch – he was late. "Fuck," he muttered, and blew the whistle, bringing his team back to the ground.

"That was the most _pathetic_ I've ever seen you play," he snarled at them when they had landed. "The match against Ravenclaw is in two fucking weeks, and you can't even catch the god-damn Quaffle."

He stalked over the crate they had left in the middle of the field and did quick summoning charm, using his wand to direct the balls into the crate before kicking it closed.

"Nott, take the balls back to the cupboard," he ordered.

"You're the Captain, that's your responsibility!" Nott protested.

"_I_ happen to have somewhere I need to be, so _you_ will take them or I will find another keeper, got it?"

Nott shot him a death glare, but went to pick up the crate anyway as the rest of the team headed towards the changing rooms.

"What's got you in such a foul mood?" Blaise asked as they pulled of their robes.

"Were you _watching_ that practice?" Draco retorted.

"We're only playing Ravenclaw, and they are a bunch of idiots," Blaise said nonchalantly. "That slut Chang will be too busy sobbing or mooning after what ever git she has her claws into to be a real threat."

Draco checked his watch again, choosing not to reply and hoping that Blaise would shut up. Behind them Crabbe and Goyle were comparing the size of the Beater's bats and arguing about whose was whose.

"Where are you headed off to anyway?" Blaise wanted to know.

"Study session," he grunted.

"Yeah? With who?"

"Granger, she's my Potions partner."

"Talking of sluts!" Blaise laughed. "That Mudblood is such a whore - its easy to guess what goes on in that Gryffindor tower with Potter and the Weasel."

Draco felt a hot, sick swoop of anger, but tampered it down knowing his team would be highly suspicious if he suddenly grabbed one of the beaters bats and whacked him with it.

"At least the bitch has got brains, so that way she will do most of the work for you," Blaise continued, not realising how close he was to being knocked out.

"Right," he replied noncommittally as he laced his shoes.

"She's got a decent body though, wouldn't be bad to have some fun with if you could get her to shut the hell up about books."

Draco shoved his Quidditch robes back into his bag with unnecessary force, resisting the urge to pull his wand out and curse him into pieces. He did _not_ want him thinking about Hermione that way.

"Hey, what kind of _studying_ are you doing to be doing with her anyway?" Blaise laughed, making an obscene gesture.

He finished doing up his bag and tossed the key to the changing rooms to Blaise. "I want you to lock up. Crabbe, you can go to the kitchens and tell the house-elves to bring me some food in the library."

"Aw, but I'm starving," Crabbe complained.

"I'm sending you to the _kitchens_, you moron," he said disgustedly. He checked his watch again. "Now I _really_ have to go, or Granger's going to kill me."

* * *

He was late.

Tired of waiting for Draco, Hermione started examining the shelves, consulting the list she had made at lunchtime of all the books she had thought they would need. She had already set up her quill and parchment at a little secluded table next to the poisons section, and within a few minutes there was a pile of books next to them.

She checked her watch again – where was he?

There was one more book she needed, but couldn't find it on the shelves, so she decided to find the Librarian.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, making Madame Pince look up from her work. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me where I could find _Uses of Animals in Antidotes_?"

"Ah, I did a sort-out of the Poisons section a few weeks ago. If it's not on the shelves, it will be somewhere in the Stacks," Madame Pince told her before returning her attention to her book.

"Thank you," Hermione said, but the Librarian ignored her.

Leaving her schoolbag by the table, she headed off to the storage room that contained the Stacks.

* * *

Draco ran into the Library, muttering a quick apology to Madame Pince for disturbing her, and headed straight to the poison section. When he got there, he found Hermione's bag next to a table already laid out, and a pile of books on poisons and antidotes – but no Hermione.

He sighed and walked back over to the front desk.

"Excuse me?" he asked the Librarian.

"What is it, boy?" she barked.

"I was wondering if you had seen Hermione Granger anywhere?"

"She's in the Stacks, looking for a book on antidotes," Madame Pince replied, not even raising her eyes from her book.

Draco couldn't help a smile - Hermione was in the _Stacks_? That was where the couples of Hogwarts went to be together.

"Thanks for your help," he said, and walked away. Dropping his bag next to Hermione's, he made his way to the door of the storage room at the back of the Library.

The massive room was utterly silent. He walked softly between the hundreds of shelves until he found her. She was standing on tiptoe to reach for a book, causing the bottom of her shirt to pull free from her skirt, giving him a glimpse of her flat stomach.

He tutted, making her jump and turn around.

"You're late – and what were you tsk-ing at me for?"

"I was just speculating about what the Gryffindor Princess was doing out here in the dusty, Library Stacks – this is where the naughty students come to play. Perhaps you're meeting someone here?"

She turned back to the shelves. "Or perhaps I'm looking for a potions book."

"I'm not sure I believe that," he said, walking forwards until he stood right behind her.

She turned around, and was clearly shocked at how close he was. He lifted his hands, trapping her between his arms so that he towered over her.

"Draco, you can't be serious …"

"Oh, I am," he chuckled, tilting his head to place a soft kiss at the hollow beneath her ear. He hadn't kissed her properly since that night in the Prefects Bathroom, and he wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Hermione trembled slightly, but otherwise stood still.

"What if someone comes in?" she asked a little breathlessly as his mouth moved along her jaw.

"They won't," he murmured, his lips just brushing hers as he spoke. He leaned further forward and caught her mouth with his.

Hermione sighed, her warm breath filling his mouth, and parted her lips. Her hands were in his hair, holding him too her. He lightly bit her bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth.

He pressed her back against the shelves with his body, and she let out a surprised gasp.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." Her hands moved over his shoulders and down to clutch the material of his shirt. She tried to pull him closer again, but he resisted, knowing there was something wrong.

"Hermione …" he said sternly.

She shrugged. "It was just my shoulder. Madame Pomfrey said it may twinge for a few days, but it's honestly fine."

He stepped back.

"Draco, it's fine - _really_." She had his tie now, and was slowly playing with it.

He grinned tightly and removed her hands form his tie. "Not a chance, I'm not hurting you."

Reaching around her, he easily pulled down the book that had been too high for her, and led her out of the Stacks.

"Ugh, who would have thought Slytherins could be _thoughtful_?" she said as they walked back to their table.

He snickered, pulling his ink and quill from his bag.

All business, Hermione divided up the stack of books between them and started talking about how they should divide the project. For half an hour they made checklists and research references, before settling down to start writing.

Every few minutes Draco would glance up at her. He had never put so much organisation into his homework before. That was probably why he was only second in the year, while she was the first - he wondered if she knew that he was just below her on the academic ranks.

She was absorbed in her work, her eyes flicking from the book to the parchment and back as she wrote. Her hair was falling over her eyes slightly, and his fingers itched to push it back.

"You're staring at me," she said, not looking up from the page. "It's a little creepy."

"Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and returning to his own work.

A moment later he glanced up at her.

"You're doing it again," Hermione pointed out, though she was smiling.

"I was just wondering if anyone had ever told you how beautiful you are?"

She put down her quill and raised her eyebrows at him sceptically. "That's your line? Seriously?"

He laughed. "Didn't you like it then?"

"Does it ever actually work?" she teased.

Draco shrugged philosophically. "You would be surprised."

It was at that moment that a house-elf dressed in a Hogwarts tea-towel and carrying a plate of sandwiches on a plate apparated next to his knees. "Your food, Mr Malfoy sir," it said, proffering the plate.

"About time, I'm starved," he said, reaching for the plate.

"Sorry for the delay, Mr Malfoy sir," the house-elf said apologetically.

"Just don't let it happen again – you can go."

The house-elf gave him a low bow, and the vanished with a crack.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing?" Hermione asked in a soft, dangerous voice. Her face had gone completely white.

"Getting some food, I skipped dinner for Quidditch practice – why, do you want some?" He took a bit of a sandwich and offered her the plate.

"No, I most certainly do _not_".

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself – Don't tell Madame Pince though, she'll kick me out for eating in her precious Library."

Hermione stood up and closed her books. "I don't believe this," she muttered under her breath.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded as she packed up her things.

"Back to my common room."

"Why? Hermione, what's the problem?"

It was obviously the wrong question to ask, since she slammed her books back down angrily.

"You. _You_ are the problem," she hissed. "You just went and treated that poor house-elf like a _slave_."

Draco gapped at her – she was angry at how he had treated a _house-elf?_

"Hermione, they like working -" he tried to tell her.

"Would you like to cook some ones food, wash their clothes and clean their house without any wages?" she snarled at him - and she actually had a point, he realised. "The only reason they like working is because we have brainwashed them into thinking that's what they want. Its pure-blood families like you -"

"Now _you're_ pulling a mightier-than-thou trip on me because of my _blood?_" he challenged, any sympathy he had for her cause evaporating. "That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I can't believe I ever thought this was a good idea," she grumbled, shoving her quill into her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. "I'm leaving."

She made to storm past him, but he caught her arm in a vice-like grip. "No you're not. Not until you tell me the real reason for all this."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She shook her arm free and tried to walk past him again.

He raised an arm, trapping her in their little secluded area. "I understand you want to save all the house-eves from slavery – it's very noble of you - but _why?_"

"They deserve more than slavery, Malfoy."

He shook his head slowly, staring into her angry eyes. "No, it's deeper than that … You see yourself in them, don't you? You're a muggleborn, so some people treat you like dirt – and I won't deny that I used to do the same. You are fighting your way, step by step, against a system that sets you was lower – you think that if you can get house-elves treated fairly, you can get muggleborns treated equally as well. That's the real reason, isn't it?"

"Let me out, Malfoy." Her voice was blank, expressionless.

"Not until you admit it."

"I _will_ curse you, you know."

"You won't."

She pulled out her wand. "This is your last chance – let me out."

"No."

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them breathing.

"Filangous!"

The tips of Draco's fingers suddenly suck to the wood of the bookshelves as if they had been glued there. He pulled hard, but they wouldn't come free, nor could he reach into his pocket for his wand. He swore under his breath.

Hermione, however, simply ducked under his arm and walked away without looking back.

***

The next morning Hermione walked down to breakfast with Harry and Ron, determinedly not letting her eyes wander over to the Slytherin table. They had both been very impressed by the way she had cursed Draco – she had told them she had done it because of the way he had treated the house-elf, which had been almost completely true.

"Malfoy's staring at you," Ron muttered to her as she loaded her plate with toast.

"Let him stare," Hermione said, refusing to look up at him. Instead she pulled out one of her text books and started reading, while Harry and Ron started up an animated debate out the outcome of the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match that was coming up.

A moment later a folded piece of paper landed in the middle of her book. She looked up, expecting to see the owl that had dropped it, but the post hadn't even arrived yet. Glancing confusedly around the hall, her eyes met Draco's – their gazes held for a moment, until he dropped his eyes to the paper on the book.

She briefly considered setting it on fire just to spite him, but curiosity overwhelmed her. With a sigh, she picked up the note and opened it.

A single word was written in Ancient Runes - _Sorry_.

She looked back up at Draco. He stood up purposefully, giving her a significant look, before walking out of the hall.

"I'll see you guys in Potions, okay?" she muttered to Harry and Ron, who briefly broke off their conversation to say goodbye to her.

Draco was waiting for her in the entrance hall, leaning against one of the posts of the marble staircase. She waited for him to speak as they walked silently down to the dungeons together.

He took a deep breath. "Look, if I was … presumptuous about your motivations behind helping house-elves, them I'm sorry – I just wanted -"

"No, its fine," Hermione interrupted him, keeping her eyes on the floor. "It was just that no one had ever put it like that before. You were right actually."

"I was?" he asked, just as the bell signalling the start of class rang out.

"I hate the way how the wizard-world treats everyone who is just a little bit different as inferior."

"Hey, I understand, Granger." He shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the wall next to the classroom. "We all need our little rebellions against the system."

"And what is your _little rebellion_?"

Draco smiled at her slowly. "Well, considering that I am the only son of a very rich and respectable pure-blood family who is expected to continue the bloodline, how about fraternising with a muggleborn?"

Hermione couldn't help a slight laugh. "You are an arrogant son of a bitch, you know that?"

He reached out and lightly pushed some hair off her face, his cool fingertips lingering on her cheek. "Sure, it's part of my charm."

They could hear the approaching footsteps of their classmates, so he dropped his hand.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked softly, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione smiled at him. "Yeah, you're forgiven."

* * *

**Review again …? **

**come on, favourite subject?**

**=D**


	10. Distractions

**Authours note ...**

**as usual, nothing belongs to me - J K has that good fortune.**

**sorry again for the long wait - i was swamped at school and this was driven totally from my mind :S thanks to Disney 101 for giving me much needed reminder!**

**2 chapters coming, just for you all... **

* * *

Hermione was trying her best to ignore Draco, but he kept shooting her sideways looks while they worked.

As she glanced around to find her book their gazes met. His grey eyes were sparkling and the knowing smirk on his face making her blush. He shifted his chair a little closer to hers so that their legs were touching under the table.

She bent her head back over her work and kept writing.

They were sitting in the Library together, at the secluded little table in the poisons section, with books and parchment spread out around them – though they were not alone by any means. The Library was full of students laughing and working, and they had already been forced to explain several times that they were doing a project together in order to get rid of rumour mongers.

Draco reached forward and lightly rested his pale hand on top of her own much smaller one, which was resting on one of the books.

Hermione glanced around them. "Someone might see," she whispered.

"That's what makes it fun," he whispered back.

Not sure whether she should giggle or frown, Hermione returned to her book, though the pressure of his hand on hers was distracting to say the least.

A group of chattering third-year Hufflepuffs walked past and Hermione tensed, ready to snatch her hand away.

Draco snickered and leaned towards her. "Just relax," he breathed in her ear, his breath tickling her.

She gasped as he dragged their entwined hands off the table and onto her thigh. She wasn't wearing any tights, so she could feel the coolness of his fingers on her bare skin.

He turned her hand so it was resting on her leg with the palm facing up, and began to lightly trail his fingertips over the lines on her skin.

"That's very distracting, you know," she said a little breathlessly

"This isn't distracting," he whispered back. His fingers left her palm and lightly brushed her inner thigh, slowly moving upwards. "_This_ is distracting."

"Hermione?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked up to find Hannah Abbot looking curiously at them. "What are you guys doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Potions project," Draco replied easily, moving his hand.

"Ah, right," Hannah said, reassured. Hermione didn't think she had seen anything that had been going on under the table, since she smiled and apologised for disturbing them before she left.

Draco smirked at her. "We _need_ to find somewhere else to do our work."

The Library was near full when Harry and Ron entered. After a moments searching they found Hermione sitting alone at a little table in the poisons section, surrounded by heaps of parchment and books.

"Hermione!" Harry called as they approached.

She jumped and looked up, relaxing when she saw it was them. "Hi guys, how was Quidditch practice?"

"Fine," Ron replied, staring down at her huge pile of work with an expression of horror on his face. "What are you _doing_?"

"The Potions project," she said, looking around her for her quill. Harry felt a pang of guilt – he had completely forgotten about the project, and knew he would have to get started soon.

"Malfoy not helping? No surprise there," Ron said scornfully.

"Actually he's over there – he went looking for a book on the phases of the moon."

"I was wondering if you could help me with the charms essay tonight?" Harry asked, which was the reason they had come over. "I don't understand the weather charms properly."

"That's fine, how about I meet you in the common room later?" Hermione said absently, having found her quill.

"Great, see you then."

"Bye Hermione," Ron said as they left.

"Does Hermione seem a bit … tense, to you?" Ron muttered to him as they walked.

Harry shrugged. "Probably the strain of working with Malfoy," he said. "And she only came out of the hospital wing yesterday."

"Yeah …" Ron agreed.

They walked past the astronomy section and saw Malfoy browsing the shelves. Harry pulled Ron to one side, out of the Slytherin boys line of sight.

"Look, do you reckon we should say something to Malfoy?" Harry asked him. "Warn him to lay off Hermione?"

"Couldn't hurt," Ron agreed, and they walked back to where they had seen him.

Malfoy straightened when he heard their footsteps and sneered at them. "Well if it isn't Potty and the Weasel. I'm surprised to see you two in a Library – I didn't think you knew how to read."

"Shut it Malfoy," Ron snarled.

"Or what? You gonna curse me, Weaselbee? I'd like to see you try."

Ron already had his hand in his pocket, so Harry though it was best to intervene.

"We aren't here to fight," he told him. "This is about Hermione."

Malfoy snorted and turned back to the shelf. "Don't fret, Potter," he drawled. "She's in safe hands with me."

"I doubt that," Harry said sceptically. "We just wanted you to know that if you upset her or hurt her in any way -"

Malfoy's grey eyes flashed angrily and he interrupted in a soft, dangerous voice, "If you actually think I would do _anything_ to hurt her, then you are both stupider than you look – which is saying a lot,"

"Either way, if you try anything, you'll have _us_ to answer to," Harry finished, grabbing Ron's arm to turn him around.

"Well I'm shaking in my boots now," Malfoy called after them sarcastically.

"You'd better be," Ron growled under his breath as they walked.

Harry thought he heard Malfoy mutter to himself about how at least he could afford boots, but he didn't think Ron had heard.

"Your boy-toys seem to be worried about you," Draco told Hermione as he slid back into his chair, who looked up, shocked.

"What did they do?" she asked.

"They gave me the 'if you hurt her I'll hunt you down speech'. Very dramatic." Pathetic really, Draco thought. He shook his head and opened the book, just as Hermione slammed her own shut.

"That's _it_" she muttered to herself, packing up her things.

"What's wrong now?" Draco demanded, wondering what he could have possibly done now to make her storm out of the Library on him _again_.

"We can't work like this! If we aren't being interrupted by gossipers, we have best friends on our tail."

He tilted his chair back on two legs, folded his arms behind his head and looked up at her. "And what would you suggest? Somehow I doubt either of us will be welcome in each others common rooms."

Hermione hesitated. "I know a place," she murmured under her breath, looking at him from under her eyelashes in a way that made his pulse quicken. "We will be able to work undisturbed. And it's much more private."

Draco let his chair fall back to the ground. "I'm listening."

* * *

**dont worry, you wont be left in suspense for long! ;) off to put the next part up ...**

**you dont have to review since im about to put another up, but if you do tell me your favourite fruit - i like grapes!**

**=D**


	11. The Room of Requirement

**see? that wasnt a long wait that time! ;)**

**something i forgot to mention last time - all reviews are read and loved, even if they are not immediatly replied too!**

**again, J K owns all ... **

* * *

"Here it is!" Hermione said, stopping suddenly.

Draco looked around them. "Hermione, this is an empty corridor," he said, pointing out the obvious. They were somewhere on the seventh floor, standing opposite a tapestry of trolls doing ballet, and he couldn't see any doors or secret hideouts anywhere.

"Stand there," she directed, indicating one side of the corridor. "And watch."

He watched bemusedly as she walked in front of the wall three times, her eyes tightly closed and muttering under her breath. He gasped as he saw a highly polished door appear in the wall opposite the tapestry.

Hermione seized the handle and pushed open the door. "After you," she said with a grin, indicating that he should go in first.

Draco felt his jaw drop as he entered the room. It appeared to be a cross between the Library and a smaller version of the Gryffindor common room. It was decorated in warm, inviting reds and golds, with mahogany shelves spanning the wall, all of the books about poisons and antidotes. There was a table already covered in parchment and ink, all neatly laid out. In one corner was a wide, comfortable looking faded-leather sofa and there was a small fire crackling merrily in the grate.

He turned to Hermione, who was already browsing the bookshelves. "What _is_ this place?"

"The Room of Requirement," she answered, and then went on to explain how it worked as she pulled out her books and their project.

Draco was staggered by the time she had finished. The potential for this room was practically limitless. People could do _anything_ in here.

"This is where you were having those meetings, wasn't it?" he asked, joining her at the table. "Dumbledore's Army, or something?"

Hermione scowled at him. "Yes, it was. Until _you_ helped shut us down."

He shrugged. "Inquisitorial Squad, remember? I was just doing my job."

"I still don't see how you could have sided with Umbridge," she muttered, almost to herself.

"She was a total cow," Draco told her cheerfully, making her look up at him.

"Then why did you join her pathetic little dictatorial squad?" she wanted to know, and he grinned at her apt nickname for the Squad.

"She was the one in power, wasn't she?" he said reasonably. "In the end, _you_ were very nearly expelled and I wasn't – I happen to care about my education, so I thought I would tow her line for a while."

She pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.

Draco pulled a book towards him and started work. Hermione had accused him of being distracting, but in reality it was _her_ that kept sidetracking _him_. He would become absorbed in the movement of her slender fingers as she absently wound a strand of hair around them. She would bite her lip whenever she was thinking hard, making them go a deep and appealing red. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs the material of her skirt would hike up around her thighs, meaning that his thoughts would wander far away from studying.

After about an hour of silent work Hermione laid down her pen so she could pull off her jumper. In the firelight her white shirt was semi-transparent, revealing a dark blue bra as the material subtly flowed down the curves of her body.

"Are you _trying_ to make me fail this project?" Draco asked.

"Hmm?" Hermione said, looking back up from her work.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head incredulously. She may have near non-human intelligence, but she was utterly oblivious to her beauty and appeal to men.

After a further half an hours working Draco finished his last sentence and threw down his quill. "Done."

"What?"

"I'm finished."

"How did you get it done so fast?" she demanded.

"I did some last night after Quidditch practice, and in the Library at lunchtime," he told her.

Hermione made a frustrated noise and looked down at her work.

"You're actually annoyed aren't you?" Draco laughed, tilting his chair back. "You wanted to finish first!"

"Its not a competition, Draco," she said loftily, and then added under her breath, "Though if it was you would have cheated."

He blew her a kiss. "Slytherin."

She seemed to be struggling not to smile. "I've only got these two sections left to do, and tomorrows Saturday, so I can do them then."

"So how long has this taken us?" he asked with mild sarcasm. "Four days out of the fourteen we had?"

"If we had some sense we should have drawn it out longer," Hermione said, closing her books.

"What do you mean?"

She gave him an almost shy look. "Well, this is our excuse to be together – unless we just don't tell people we've finished."

He grinned at her. "We can keep coming here. This can be our secret hideout."

"Oh yeah? And what will we do in here?"

Draco stood up and walked around to her side of the table, and lightly pushed some hair off her face with his fingertips. "I have an idea …"

She smiled nervously as she looked up at him in a way that made his heart-rate splutter, and then accelerate. He bent down and touched his mouth to hers, parting her lips easily. Her hands came up around his neck and she wound her fingers into his hair, holding him to her.

He pulled her up and guided her over to the couch, their lips never breaking apart. They sank down together, and Hermione's hands moved downwards to run over his chest, making him shiver against her.

Within moments he was laying half on-top of her, pressing her body down into the cushions. The tips of his fingers traced down the side of her torso, across her waist and over her hip before pausing to play with the hem of her skirt.

He broke away from her lips to kiss her throat and collarbone as she gasped for breath beneath him. His tongue flickered out to taste her and he lightly bit the skin of her neck, just hard enough to leave a faint mark.

Her leg wrapped around his narrow waist, leaving his hand flat against the silky smooth, creamy skin of her upper thigh. He sucked in a shocked breath and allowed his hand to move slowly upwards.

Hermione started to giggle.

"What's funny?" he asked, surprised at how husky his voice was, as he dragged her earlobe between his teeth.

"It's just … if you had told me a week ago that we would be here …"

Draco pulled back to stare down at her. Her eyes were dark, with her pupils huge and dilated, while her lips had turned an even deeper red from their kiss. "I would have been shocked too."

"Really?"

"A week ago I still hated you." He smiled wryly and trailed his fingers over the hectic flush on her cheekbones as he gazed down at her. "I wanted you, of course, which is why I kissed you in the bathroom, and I could admire you as a person – but you were still everything I was against."

He cupped her face with both hands, supporting his weight on his elbows and stared into her eyes. "I'm not sure what I feel for you now," he told her honestly.

"I know," Hermione whispered, her eyes stark. "It's all so confusing…"

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft, floral scent. "We'll find a way to be together, 'Mione," he murmured into her ear before he pulled her upright so that they were sitting side-by-side, though still touching.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling the sudden change in mood.

"Lets just talk," he said, putting an arm around her slim shoulders to pull her against him. "We've hardly spoken until recently, and I feel I know nothing about you."

While he _did_ want to kiss her, to touch her, he also wanted to get to know her better – he wanted to know whether or not he loved her.

* * *

Harry frowned and checked his watch. It was nearly curfew and Hermione still hadn't come back from the Library yet. It wasn't like her to stay out this late, and she had promised to help him with his homework.

"Where do you think Hermione is?" he asked Ron, who was playing chess with Ginny.

"Library most likely," he replied without looking up from the board. "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be here soon."

Harry sighed and pulled his charms book towards him, trying to make sense of the complex weather charms.

Hermione felt a little self conscious at first, but it quickly faded at the look of absorption on Draco's face as he listened to her talk about her childhood.

He asked what it had been like, growing up as a witch among muggles, and so she told him about all the times she had accidentally made things happen – the time she had turned their pet dog green, shrinking her bed until it was the size of a shoebox and when she had made it snow in the middle of her classroom in June.

He started to tell her about his own upbringing. He didn't reveal any of the anger he had shown in the forest when he had spoken about his father, but rather talked with a clinical detachment, as if it was a story that had happened to someone else.

Instead of dwelling on his parents disciplinary methods, as he had done before, he told her about all the amazing historical and magical places that they had taken him to and Hermione had to suppress a brief flash of jealousy. He had been to the Tsar's palace in Russia, the Ancient Greek temples where the muggles had raised witches and wizards to the level of Gods, the catacombs underneath Paris and even the village of Salem where they had held the witch trials they had studied in History of Magic – which led to a conversation about their school life.

She was a little surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. It was similar to talking to Harry and Ron, but different at the same time. Instead of familiar banter it was curiosity; his questions, and hers in return, never seemed to run out as they eagerly learnt more about each other.

* * *

Draco was gasping for breath, laughing so hard that his sides hurt and tears trickled down from the corners of his eyes.

"And then," Hermione giggled, "I just waved my hands and went 'but there's no wood!' I was just utterly useless and couldn't think what to do, and Ron just shouted 'are you a witch or not?!' I had just completely forgotten about my wand!"

"I can't believe you would ever loose your cool like that in a dangerous situation," he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

Hermione swatted him playfully on the chest. "Give me a break, I was only eleven!"

* * *

Nearly everyone else had gone up to bed, but Harry was still pacing the common room, waiting for Hermione. It was well past midnight now and she still hadn't come back. Muttering a curse, he went up to his dormitory. All the other boys were asleep with their hangings pulled tight, so none of them noticed as he rummaged around his trunk.

After a minutes searching in the dark he found the Marauders Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

At once little ink lines spread from his wand over the Map. He bent over it, searching for Hermione. Lavender and Parvati were in their dormitory, but she wasn't with them – neither was she in the Library.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and headed back down to the common room. He wasn't sure what exactly he was going to do or where he was going to search, since she wasn't appearing on the Map, but he wanted to do _something_ to look for her.

"Where do you think your going?" a familiar voice stopped him.

Ginny was standing a little behind him, wearing a pale dressing gown and slippers. Her flaming hair was messy around her face, as if she had just got out of bed.

He hesitated, and then said, "Hermione isn't back yet, and I can't find her on the Map. I was going to go find her."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "If she's not back then she probably has good reason to be staying out."

"But what if -"

"What if what?" she interrupted.

"What if she's hurt?"

Ginny smiled at him. "Harry, do you _really_ think she's hurt?"

His gut wasn't telling him she was, but he was still worried at her un-Hermione like behaviour.

"Most likely," she said, reading his expression. "She has got some secret boyfriend she isn't telling you about, so I highly doubt she would appreciate it if you came barging in on them – if you could get into whoever-it-was's common room, which I doubt."

Harry frowned.

"Tell you what," she continued. "If she's not back tomorrow I'll help you look – and if we can't find her _then_ we can panic."

He couldn't help a grin at her blasé attitude, and she smiled back. "What are you doing up this late anyway?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged. "So I thought I'd come down here and work on my boggart essay. Wanna help?"

"Sure," Harry said, smiling as they sat down together. He always relished every chance to be with Ginny.

* * *

As they talked they had ended up pressed against each other, with Hermione lying between Draco's legs and resting her head on his chest. His fingers were lightly sifting through her hair.

They lights in the room had dimmed, suiting their now sleepy mood perfectly. Hermione could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thumping inside him, and remembered how that sound had been a lifeline in her darkness when she had been injured in the forest.

She told him that, and he was silent for a long time.

"I've never _really_ been scared of anything in my life, but that night I was terrified," he whispered. "Not for myself, with those spiders, but for you. I was so worried I wouldn't be able to save you."

"But you did save me," Hermione said to him, but her words came out distorted by a massive yawn.

Draco chuckled softly. "Sleep 'Mione."

Only her family ever called her 'Mione, and she had told Harry and Ron she didn't like the nickname when they had tried to call her it, but somehow she didn't mind that Draco did.

"I should go back to my common room," she muttered, though she made no move to get up.

His arms tightened slightly around her. "No. Stay," he murmured in her ear. "Stay here with me."

Hermione smiled sleepily, but didn't reply, snuggling closer to his warm chest instead. Within moments she had been lulled to sleep by the regular rhythm of his heartbeat.

* * *

Draco gazed down at Hermione's sleeping figure, relishing the sensation of her soft form pressed against him. He was curling her silky brown hair absently around his fingers. Her sooty eyelashes cast shadows over her lightly tanned skin, and she slept with her lips slightly parted.

They had talked most of the night away, discussing everything as they easily jumped from topic to topic; from their hopes and ambitions, to their favourite books, to the differences between wizard and muggle life.

It was amazing just how _much_ they had to say to each other. It had been the longest, most animated conversation Draco had had in weeks, possibly months.

He didn't feel particularly tired, and he wanted to savour each moment with her. He bit his lip, hating the feeling that they might not have very long together – after all, he was the son of a Death Eater and she was practically a member of the Order. When people discovered them they would be torn apart.

Hermione murmured something in her sleep and he smiled down at her, deciding then and there that, for now, he would simply live in the moment.

* * *

Hermione kept her eyes closed, wandering where she was. She wasn't in her bed, she knew that, so perhaps she had fallen asleep in the common room with Harry or Ron. She was definitely with someone – one of her hands had slipped between the buttons of a shirt to rest against skin, and she could hear a heartbeat as she lay against someone's chest.

Cool fingertips lightly touched her face. "Are you awake?" a familiar voice whispered softly, and the previous night came flooding back.

She opened her eyes and saw that she was still in the Room of Requirement, and that she was laying half on top of Draco Malfoy. She propped her chin on his chest to peek up into his sparkling grey eyes.

"Good morning," he said, smiling crookedly.

"Hello," she said, and then sat up suddenly. "Merlin's beard, we stayed out all night!"

She checked her watch, and was horrified. "We've completely missed first lesson! We should -"

"'Mione, calm down," Draco chuckled, grapping her wrists to stop her leaping off the sofa. "It's a Saturday."

"Oh," she said, relaxing for a moment, but then she remembered something else and hit herself in the forehead. "I was supposed to help Harry with his Charms last night! He'll be wondering where I am."

"Just tell him you fell asleep in the Library," he said reasonably. Hermione bit her lip, knowing Harry he would have checked the Marauders Map, which she couldn't tell Draco about. Did that mean Harry knew?

"I should go," she said reluctantly.

Draco sighed. "Well we can't stay in here forever, I suppose."

They got up and started gathering up their school bags and books. "What are we going to tell people when we finish the project?" he asked.

Hermione hesitated a moment. "Tell you what, lets cross that bridge when we get to it. Who knows if we will be able to get through this next week without killing each other?"

Draco assumed a fake hurt expression. "Do you really think we would do that?"

"Its possible," she teased. "You are a Slytherin cheater, after all."

"Bossy Gryffindor," he retorted, smiling.

"Spoilt brat." Hermione was grinning now too.

"Know-it-all."

"Ferret."

He pretended to wince. "Low blow, 'Mione," he said as they headed out the door. "That is a very painful memory.

"There you are!"

Ginny watched as Hermione jumped nearly out of her skin and turned around. "Hi Ginny," she said lightly.

"Where have you been?" she asked, noting Hermione's slightly crumpled school uniform, tousled hair and the school bag she still carried.

"Oh, I, um, fell asleep in the Library," she said, a slow blush rising in her cheeks.

"Right," Ginny snickered. "And what about that hickey on your neck?"

Completely scarlet now, she clamped a hand to her throat. "Nothing! I, uh, I fell."

"And obviously landed on your neck," she said sarcastically. "Come on, Hermione, I recognise a love-bite when I see one! Who were you with?"

"Nobody!"

Ginny shook her head, unable to believe that. "Don't worry Hermione, Harry and I already suspected a secret boyfriend anyway. He was about to go out looking for you last night, since he couldn't find you on the map, but I told him you probably wouldn't want to be disturbed."

"He couldn't find us?" Hermione asked, looking relived.

"Aha! So there _was_ someone! Spill!" Ginny slipped her arm through hers, linking them as they walked.

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shook her head. "It's only just starting out, Ginny, I don't want people to know about it yet."

She made a frustrated noise. "Alright … but come on, Hermione, give me _some_ details!"

"Well, um … he's tall, really clever, very good looking and …"

"And?" Ginny prompted.

Hermione sighed. "And I think I'm falling in love with him."

* * *

**Soooo ... Review?**

**This time (and im really interested in this one!) tell me your favourite Harry Potter non-canon pairing?! **

**mine is obviously dramione, but im also a neville luna fan - cant believe he got with hannah!!!**

**sorry again for the long wait ... :S**


	12. Tell Them

**Authors note - characters belong to JK, not me.**

Sorry for the long wait for an update (AGAIN!!!) but ive been hugly busy doing Nanowrimo - anyone else doing it out there?!?!?

All comments were read and highly appreciated, even if i didnt reply - i lost several of them in my inbox after reading them, and dont yet know how to find them on here!!

anywho enjoy!

* * *

Harry joined Ron and Hermione in the great hall for breakfast on Monday morning later than usual, having decided to wait for Ginny in the common room. His rather pathetic excuse had been that he wanted to take one last look at her boggart essay - not that Ginny had particularly minded, giving him a sunny smile as they talked about magical creatures.

Hermione and Ron were discussing the latest Death Eater attack with grim faces. Sitting down, Harry grabbed the _Daily Prophet_ that lay discarded between them, wincing when he saw the headline – 'Brutal dark wizard attack on muggle orphanage'.

He skimmed the article before reluctantly passing it to Ginny, who had been trying to read it over his shoulder. "There goes my good day," she muttered to herself before they both joined in Hermione and Ron's conversation.

After several minutes of gloomy discussions on the attack Angelina Johnson, whose parents worked in the Magical Law Enforcement office, leant over and told them bleakly what the estimated death-toll had been, a statistic that hadn't been in the _Prophet_.

"Can we just talk about something else? Please?" Ginny asked, her face pale.

Harry cast around for a cheerier topic; Hermione was looking glumly down at her half eaten breakfast, and thinking of what Ginny said the other night, he decided to playfully tease her a little.

"So Hermione, who's your new boyfriend?" he said, reaching for the jam pot.

Hermione promptly started choking on her toast.

"What new boyfriend?" Ron demanded, looking from Harry to Hermione, who was glaring at Ginny.

"Don't look at me." Ginny shrugged innocently. "I told you Harry and I had out theories."

"Who is it?" Ron wanted to know.

"Nobody!" Hermione hissed, looking flustered.

"Yeah right," Harry snickered. "You were out pretty late the other night."

"What?" Ron asked.

"I was studying! I fell asleep in the Library!"

"Obviously some magical Library that doesn't appear on the Map … or could it perhaps have been someone's common room?" Harry fished.

"Even if I did have a boyfriend, it isn't any of your business!"

"We're your best friends, Hermione," Ron wheedled. "Come on …"

Ginny giggled. "If she hasn't told me then she definitely won't tell you."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because girls talk about this sort of thing," Ginny said, shrugging philosophically before leaning forward conspiratorially to whisper, "I'll tell you this though, apparently he's tall."

"Ginny, stop it!" Hermione ordered.

"But why aren't we allowed to know?" Ron questioned, clearly baffled by this glimpse into how girls minds worked.

"Because I don't have to share every detail of my love-life with you like girls gossiping in a bathroom!"

"Come on, Hermione – who's your boyfriend?"

"Jealous that she isn't snogging you instead, Weasley?" a familiar, drawling voice asked.  
Harry span around in his seat, his hand instinctively going for his wand, to find Draco Malfoy staring contemptuously down at them.

"Personally I would pity whatever poor bastard she has her claws suck into," Malfoy continued, moving his gaze to Hermione, his eyes sparkling.

Hermione went slightly pink and opened her mouth to reply, but Ron had beaten her to it.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" he snarled, having turned beet-red at his words.

"I wanted to tell Herm-_Granger_ that I won't be able to make our … study session tonight, since I have Quidditch practice."

"That's fine, Malfoy, we still have a week to finish the project," she said, turning dismissively away from him.

Malfoy hesitated a moment, and then stalked away towards the Slytherin table.

"Crap," Harry said. "Ron, what are we doing our Potions project on again?"

* * *

Hermione sighed to herself as she walked back from the Library alone. The school was dark and nearly empty, being only fifteen minutes to curfew.

She had been in the Library since dinner trying to get all the work she had been set done and had only just finished. It had been a particularly frustrating day – there had been that horrible article in the _Prophet_, then Harry had made fun of her about having a 'secret boyfriend', which had immediately got Ron all riled up, she had been set three essays to do and Draco had skipped their _study session_.

She was just heading down the Charms corridor when a figure suddenly leapt out from behind a statue. She plunged a hand into the pocket of her robes, but a strong arm was wrapped around her waist, towing her into an empty classroom and trapping her wand in the material.

Before she could draw breath to scream a second hand was clamped over her mouth – a hand attached to an arm wearing … green Quidditch robes?"

"Relax 'Mione, it's me!" Draco hissed in her ear.

She stopped struggling and he released her so she could turn around to face him.

"Is there any particular reason you are attacking me in the corridor – or is this just our new way of greeting each other?" she asked, straightening her robes.

"Oh, this is our greeting," Draco grinned mischievously. His hands encircled her waist, drawing her against his body. "And I was attacking you, as you put it, because I haven't seen you all weekend."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that her friends were starting to get suspicious, But Draco's mouth came down over hers and she forgot whatever-it-was that she had been about to say as he pushed her back against one of the desks.

* * *

Ginny was heading to her evening Astronomy lesson when she remembered the draft of her Charms essay she was supposed to hand in today. Fortunately she had it in her bag with her, so she decided to take a quick detour down the Charms corridor, intending to leave the essay on Flitwick's desk.

She was rummaging in her bag for the essay when she heard a distinct gasp and a slight thud. She looked up just in time to see Hermione at the far end of the corridor struggling with an attacker as he pulled her into a classroom, a hand covering her mouth, leaving her belongings scattered on the floor.

Ginny hardly stopped to think – she dropped her bag and pulled out her wand, running though all the curses she had learned in DA as she sprinted the length of the hallway.

She kicked open the door to find Hermione being passionately kissed by her attacker, who was none other than Draco Malfoy. She was sitting on the desk with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands clutching in the material of his green Quidditch robes.

"Chiroptum!" Ginny shouted, pointing her wand at Malfoy.

They sprang apart at the sound of her voice, both of them looking around wildly.

"What the -?" Malfoy spat out, just as dozens of flying bat-bogies started attacking his face.

"Ginny!" Hermione said, shocked, as she pulled out her own wand to perform the counter spell.

As the bats disappeared Malfoy clambered to his feet, his wand in his hand and glaring angrily at Ginny.

"What the _hell_ did you do that for?" he snarled at her.

"Hermione, get behind me," she said, still covering Malfoy with her wand.

"It's not like that," Hermione insisted, holding her hands out to Ginny placatingly.

Ginny's wand drooped as Hermione cast a quick look at Malfoy before squaring her shoulders and taking his hand. "Draco's the one I've been going out with."

Malfoy put his arm around her and smirked. "Guess we're going public now then, huh?" he drawled.

"Is she under the Imperious Curse?" Ginny demanded, pointing her wand at him again.

"Believe it or not, Weaselette," Malfoy said witheringly. "I do possess a certain degree of charm which means I _don't_ have to use Unforgivable Curses on girls."

"Charm? Is that what you call it?" Hermione asked him teasingly, and he grinned down at her.

"Hermione, he is the son of a Death Eater! He might even be a Death Eater himself!" Ginny said through gritted teeth. "Has it even _occurred_ to you that he might just be using you for information?"

"He hasn't asked me one single question about the Order or Harry or _anything_." Hermione said, looking angry now.

"I can't believe this," Ginny muttered to herself, staggered that Hermione was defending the Slytherin boy.

"Look, Weas- I mean … Ginny," Malfoy said calmly. "I happen to really like Hermione. I'm not about to hurt her – or anyone for that matter, so your precious Potter is totally safe, and I'm certainly not trying to get any information out of her."

Hermione ducked out from Malfoy's arm and approached her. "Ginny, I know you don't like him, and I know you don't trust him, and I'm not asking you too. But can you trust _me_?" She tried to take her hands, but Ginny stepped back.

"Even if what the two of you have is … real, Harry and Ron are still going to kill him when they find out." Ginny jerked her chin towards Malfoy.

"Are you going to tell them?" Hermione asked, looking slightly panicked.

Ginny slowly shook her head. "I'm not going to tell them." Hermione looked momentarily relieved, but then she continued. "_You're_ going to tell them."

She flinched, her face blanched. "Ginny, I don't -"

She shoved her wand back in her pocket, wanting nothing more that to get out of there. She gave the stricken couple a cold look. "Tell them, Hermione – or I will."

* * *

**uh ohs, another cliffy! ;P**

**Review? :D pretty please?**

**This time tell me your LEAST FAVOURITE noncanon couple - there are some seriously odd ones out there, though i think one of the most distrubing is Hermione/snape - wtf people?!? (no offence intended to any Hermione/snape shippers - though if you are a shipper i would be interested to kow the logic behind it. seriously, im confused)**

**anyway, REVIEW! =D**


	13. Authors note

Authors note.

So, I haven't updated in … months.

I'm sorry?

The thing is, I was doing NaNoWriMo in November (anyone else do it?) and got started on one of my novel ideas.

But then, once NaNoWriMo was finished I had a whole pile of crap come down on me – general coursework and exams, not to mention University applications which the system managed to bollix up for me.

sooo, when I did get time to write, having started my novel, this kinda took a back seat on my writing priorities.

Not to mention the fact that I didn't know how to finish this piece either!!! I had an ending sequence in my head, but didn't know how to FINISH it, so I - well, you will see at the end!

Also, thanks for all those who have actually stuck with this story – goodness knows I have gotten tired of it at a lot of points!

So now, without further ramblings from me, here is the rest of the story …


	14. Maurader

**Where we left our story – Ginny had just found out about the lovebirds ….**

Harry glanced up from his Transfiguration essay as Ginny clambered through the portrait hole. She looked pale and seemed to walk as if she were in a daze.

"Ginny? Didn't you say you had you go to astronomy?" he asked her concernedly.

She blinked at him. "Oh. Yeah … crap, I forgot." She turned around to head back out of the common room, but Harry jumped up to stop her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, though her voice sounded a little off. "I just … I guess I'm just a bit out of it," she shrugged.

"Come on, I'll take you to the hospital wing."

"Harry, I'm fine, _really_." She shook her head as if to clear it and checked her watch. "Damn, I'm already late – I'll see you later."

"Wait," Harry stopped her. "Have you seen Hermione anywhere? She isn't back from the Library yet and she promised us she would help with our essays."

Ginny wouldn't meet his eyes. "No, I haven't seen her."

"Oh … well maybe she's with her _boyfriend_," he said, trying to make her smile, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, since she blanched.

"Yeah … maybe - anyway, I'll see you later Harry."

"Bye Ginny …" he said bemusedly as she trailed out of the common room.

He tried to focus on his essay, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Ginny and what was wrong with her. After staring down at his parchment for several minutes without writing a single word, he threw down his quill.

"I'll be back in a minute," he muttered to Ron as he stood up, who merely grunted as he scanned the Transfiguration textbook.

Harry headed up to his dormitory, which was thankfully deserted, and rummaged through his trunk until he found the Marauders Map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping the Map with his wand, watching as ink spread out from the tip.

Finding Ginny's ink-dot, he followed her progress all the way up to the Astronomy Tower, where twenty or so other students and Professor Sinistra were gathered. Satisfied that she had arrived safely, he was about to wipe the Map when two other ink-dots caught his eye.

Hermione was in one of the Charms classrooms with Draco Malfoy.

He stared at their dots for a long moment, wandering what Malfoy could possibly want with Hermione. It was well passed curfew, and Malfoy had said the Slytherins had Quidditch practice that night, so they couldn't be working on their Potions Project.

Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, wanting to see what they were doing. He covered himself before he left the dormitory and crept down the stairs. Ron was getting too frustrated with his essay to notice he would be gone, so he didn't bother telling him.

"Who's that?" the Fat Lady barked as he opened her portrait hole, but he didn't bother replying.

He made his way slowly towards the Charms corridor, keeping a wary eye on the Map for Filch and Mrs Norris, but didn't meet anyone.

Hermione's school bag and books were scattered over the floor of the hall as if she had dropped them. He pulled out his wand, knowing that Hermione would never leave her books on the floor unless something was terribly wrong.

The door opposite was ajar, he checked the Map – they were definitely in there, but he couldn't hear any voices inside.

Holding his breath, Harry squeezed inside, trying not to open the door any further or accidentally pull the cloak off himself and so reveal to Malfoy that he was there.

He had been half expecting to find Malfoy tormenting or taunting Hermione, or even the two of them duelling – he certainly hadn't expected to find Malfoy sitting on one of the desks, with Hermione standing between his legs. He had his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, while her hands were resting on his green Quidditch robes. They both had their eyes closed, their foreheads resting tenderly against each others.

Malfoy stirred and sighed, opening his grey eyes. "So what are you going to tell them?" he asked, sounding utterly different to his usual arrogant drawl.

"I don't know," Hermione replied sadly. "I'm just going to have to come out and say it."

Malfoy gently pushed a strand of hair of her cheek. "They are your friends. They'll understand."

"It's Harry and Ron we are talking about Draco, they hate you."

Harry stared at them with growing horror as comprehension slowly flooded him – Hermione's secret boyfriend was _Malfoy_.

He raised his wand under the cloak, ready to blast the conceited Slytherin into ashes, but he paused as Malfoy spoke again, perversely wanting to hear what he had to say to her, what lies he had told Hermione to make her believe she liked him.

"We'll figure it out 'Mione," he promised. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as he brushed his lips over her forehead. "I'm not ready to lose you," he murmured against her skin.

"You're not going to," she whispered.

Malfoy tilted her head and pressed a light kiss to her lips, lingering for a long moment.

"I have to go," Hermione murmured. "I promised I would help Ron with his Transfiguration. I figure of I help him first he might not get so angry. Harry though …" she shook her head. "I have no idea what will appease him."

"Just be honest, I think that's the best we can do."

Hermione frowned despondently, and Malfoy pulled her closer against him. "Hermione, this, how we feel, it isn't wrong or shameful," he whispered in her ear. "They may be shocked at first, but I'm sure they will come around."

She sighed. "I hope you're right Draco. Wish me luck – I think I'm going to need it."

"Good luck, Love," he said, kissing her again.

Hermione disentangled herself from his arms. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Malfoy watched her head towards the door, and Harry saw a sudden determination blaze in his eyes. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning round.

"I …"

"What's wrong, Draco?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a long moment. "Nothing, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Hermione said, looking a little confused. She smiled a little uncertainly, and slipped out of the door.

Malfoy's smile dropped from his face and he shook his head, staring after Hermione. "I love you," he whispered, his expression tortured.

Harry had seen enough. He tiptoed across to room and out the door to follow Hermione. She was halfway down the corridor, so he ran to catch up with her, pulling off his cloak.

"You should have told us," he said.

Hermione jumped about a foot in the air, one hand pressed to her heart while her eyes were wide as saucers.

"You followed me?" she spluttered, staring at him incredulously.

"I saw the two of you on the Map," he said as they walked back to the Gryffindor tower.

She huffed wearily, her gaze fixed on the floor. After a moment her eyes slid to him. "You don't seem angry …" she said hesitantly.

"I think I would have been if you had simply told me," Harry said honestly, still slightly unable to get his head around the thought of his best friend and enemy being together. "I wouldn't have thought that there could be anything … sincere between the two of you, but after seeing that …"

She let out a shaky breath. "I'm glad you understand."

"I'm not saying I like it, Hermione," He said sharply. "The only reason I am not beating him to a bloody pulp is because I think he actually really likes you, and won't hurt you. Although if he puts one toe out of line with you, i will tear him in half myself ."

Looking back, of course, it seemed almost obvious – Malfoy waiting by her hospital bedside, being nice to her parents, saying to them in the Library 'She's in safe hands with me' … he wondered how they hadn't seen it.

"In that case you won't need to hurt him," she said a little smugly.

"I hope not. But …" he continued.

"There's always a but," Hermione muttered.

"You still have to tell Ron."


	15. A Matter of Honour

Breakfast the next morning was a highly uncomfortable event. Hermione was sitting in the awkward position between Harry and Ginny, both of whom kept glancing at her and then sending pointed looks at Ron – but Hermione didn't think that telling him in the middle of the Great Hall with Draco in easy blasting distance was a very good idea.

Ron, however, hadn't noticed anything was wrong, talking away quite happily about the latest Chudley Cannons Quidditch game.

The post arrived, bringing Ron and Ginny a letter from home. While they were occupied reading it Harry, who kept looking over towards the Slytherin table, leant over and whispered, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tonight," Hermione muttered back. Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically. "Tonight, I promise."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied.

The bell rang signalling the start of lessons. Harry and Ron left for Divination, while Hermione headed towards Ancient Runes.

Draco caught her eye as she walked down a corridor and tilted his head to one side, indicating a little alcove in the wall.

"Well?" he asked as she joined him.

"Harry knows," she said quietly, conscious of the many students around them. "But I still need to tell Ron – which I promised Harry I would do tonight."

"Leaving the worst till last then?"

She laughed shakily. "Something like that."

Pansy suddenly appeared, grabbing Draco's arm and hooking it through her own. Hermione knew his face well enough to see the disgust that flashed briefly across it before he schooled his expression – it had been a look that he had used to give her.

Pansy turned her heavily made-up, pug shaped face towards Hermione and sneered. "Draco, what are you doing talking to this _thing_? We have History of Magic now."

"I know, Pans," he said with false lightness. "I just need to talk to Granger about the project – save me a seat."

"Oh no, I'll wait for you," she simpered.

"Hurry it up, Malfoy, I don't have all day," Hermione cut in, maintaining the charade of dislike.

"As I was saying," he said just as coldly, facing her again, though she could see his eyes were still warm. "We still have several sections to do, so I suggest we meet in the Library tonight."

"I can't do tonight, Malfoy," she reminded him, even though he knew full well what she had planned for that evening.

"And why's that?" he drawled, his eyes teasing. "Got a date with the Weasel?"

She smiled at him nastily. "As a matter of fact I have."

* * *

That evening in the common room the four of them were sitting around the fire, their homework spread out around them. Ginny was reading _Quidditch through the ages_ next to Harry on the sofa, while Hermione was teaching Ron the finer points of a rain-charm, trying to put him in a good mood.

Harry's annoyance had grown steadily more palpable as the evening wore on, until he was positively glaring at her.

Hermione sighed, knowing that she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Um, Ron?"

"Yeah?" he said, grinning into the miniature storm he had just succeeded in creating in a cracked teacup.

"Can I talk to you a minute?" Harry and Ginny both looked up expectantly.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Privately?"

Ron's eyes brightened slightly and he raised his eyebrows, but didn't protest as she led him into the boys dormitory.

Harry and Ginny trailed after them. "You mind them being here?" he muttered to her, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at them.

"Yeah, its okay, they already know," she told him as she sat on Neville's bed.

"Oh, right," he said, seeming a little put out. His eyes wandered over Harry, who was standing by the window, and Ginny hovering near the door. "What's going on then? What do they know?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but couldn't find her voice. Harry merely stared at her, but Ginny shrugged in a semi-encouraging way. She took a deep breath, feeling like she was about to take a plunge in cold water. "I … I am going out with Draco Malfoy."

Ron looked at her bemusedly. "I know, you're doing your Potions project with him."

"No, I mean … I am actually _going out_ with him."

His face split into a wide grin and he leaned against his bed post. "Very funny."

"It's true." She looked to Harry and Ginny for support, but neither of them spoke.

"Yeah, and I'm going out with Parkinson!" Ron laughed. "Come on Hermione, if you wanted to trick me you could have at least chosen someone believable – you would never go out with Malfoy, he's a smarmy git, and he hates muggle-borns."

"She's telling the truth, Ron," Harry said tonelessly from the window.

"But she can't be," he said, still smiling.

No one spoke.

Ron's gaze travelled from Harry, who was looking sightlessly out towards the Quidditch pitch, to Ginny standing almost guiltily by the door. The laughter faded from his eyes as no one contradicted him. The knuckles on the hand gripping the post of his bed had turned white.

His eyes found Hermione's and she stared at him, willing him to believe her. His face slowly drained of colour as she held his gaze until it looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

"You can't be …?" he said in a painfully soft voice, his expression stricken.

"I am," she whispered.

Ron's face was tortured, and then the post beneath his hand cracked as his eyes suddenly darkened in fury. "No …"

"Ron, Ron listen to me-" Hermione started to say, standing up.

"No. Malfoy? _Draco Malfoy?_"

"Yes -"

"NO!" he snarled. "He's a fucking Death Eater!"

"No, he isn't," she said sharply.

"How the hell do you know?"

"I trust him."

"Oh, you _trust_ him?" Ron spat viciously. "I'm sure that will make everything better when he sells us to You-Know-Who – the fact that you _trust_ him."

"Ron, you're over reacting, this is not that big a deal -"

"Not that big a deal?" he yelled. "In case you hadn't noticed, Hermione, we are in the middle of a God-damn _War_ - But you – _you_ – You're so … so … you're so fucking selfish! All you ever think about is yourself. You're not thinking of the War or any of us! You've betrayed the Order just by-"

"I would _never_ do anything to betray the Order," she said, starting to get angry now in turn at him suggesting such a thing.

"You betrayed us the second you decided you wanted to be with him," he shouted. "You know full well his father is a Death Eater – who tried to kill _us_ at the ministry! Malfoy is nothing but a stinking Slytherin who no doubt can't wait to follow in his fathers footsteps."

"You don't know him, Ron."

"I know enough! Remember Buckbeak? Remember him trying to get Hagrid sacked? "Remember those interviews with Skeeter and that fucking Inquisitorial Squad? I don't know how you can stand it, letting him … letting him _touch_ you after everything he had done -"

"Well I guess it's because I love him!" Hermione shrieked, loosing her temper.

Ron blanched, looking like he had been struck in the face with something heavy, his anger fading abruptly to be replaced with anguish.

"You can't love him …" he whispered, his eyes bleak. "You can't possibly."

"I'm sorry Ron, but I do," she said as normally as she could.

"No …" He stared down at the floor, trying to process what she had said. "No, I won't let you -"

"Let me?" Hermione repeated cynically. "You're not my Father, Ron, You have no right to try and tell me how to live my life."

His eyes snapped up to hers, filled with a roaring determination. "I have every right," he practically snarled.

"And what makes you think -"

"Because it was supposed to be me!" he bellowed at her.

Hermione blinked at him. Ron was breathing heavily, watching her. He reached out and gently touched her cheek with the warm tips of his fingers. "It was supposed to be me, Hermione."

"Ron …" she said, shocked by his admission.

He shook his head despairingly. "Don't talk to me," he said. "Just … just don't talk to me."

He walked around her and out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Draco tilted his chair back and put his feet on the table as he relaxed in the Slytherin common room. He had his wand out and was lazily pointing it at the fire every few minutes, making it pop and explode into green sparks, frightening several first years.

Pansy had tried to talk to him at first, but he had been too preoccupied wondering what Hermione would say to Weasel, so she had gone off in a sulk and was now blatantly flirting with Goyle in an attempt to get his attention.

A light _rat-tat-tatting_ on one of the windows distracted him from his game of tormenting the girls by the fire. A tiny owl was sitting on the windowsill, tapping the glass with its beak. Not being bothered to stand up, he opened the window with an indolent flick of his wand.

The owl flew inside and deposited a letter on his lap before alighting on the back of his armchair, twittering excitedly. He batted it away, making the owl hooted indignantly and fly out of the still open window.

The note was a scrap of paper ripped from a piece of parchment, folded in half with three words written in a messy scrawl.

_Quidditch Pitch. Now._

So she had told him.

Draco sighed and stood up, heading to his room to get his cloak. Not going was simply out of the question – it was a matter of honour now, both his and Hermione's. Though it went against the grain, he knew he would have to face Weasley and justify himself. He wouldn't even be able to hurt the stupid idiot, since he was Hermione's best friend.

"Draco?" Pansy was peeking around his door.

"What do you want, Pans?" he asked, swinging his cloak around his shoulders.

"Are you going out?" she wanted to know.

"That's really none of your business," he told her.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." He checked his wand was still in his pocket, but Pansy was blocking the door.

"I thought," she said, stepping closer to him, "That maybe we could, you know … stay in tonight. Talk."

"Sorry Pans, there's somewhere I need to be."

"Where?" She laid her hands flat on his chest.

Draco took her hands and forced them back to her side. "Like I said, it's none of your business."

Her face fell into a pout. "I don't know why you're being so cold, Draco. I'm only trying to -"

"I know _exactly_ what you're trying to do Pansy," he interrupted impatiently. "You won't be getting your hands on me or my money, so you can stop writing _Mrs Pansy Malfoy_ all over your text books, because it won't happen. Ever. End of story."

He knew he was being mean, but he still felt a vicious thrill at her shocked expression. Served her right for trying to get her claws into him, he thought.

"Draco -"

"There's no point in saying anything Pansy, you've already made me late." He checked his watch, wondering if Weasley was already at the pitch. "Now _if_ you'll excuse me …"

She didn't move, merely staring at him with hurt filled eyes. He sighed edgily and stepped around her, leaving her standing alone in his room.

No one else tried to stop him as he stalked across the common room. It was nearly midnight, so he walked as softly as he could through the dark corridors, not wanting to attract Filch's attention.

The night was cold, but clear with thousands of stars winking down as he crossed the smooth lawns. His breath rose in billowing clouds of white and he wrapped his cloak tighter around him.

He entered the Quidditch stands through the Slytherin changing rooms, using the key in his pocket. When he walked out onto the pitch he immediately saw Weasley standing in the centre, facing away from him and staring up at the stars.

The Gryffindor boy was only a black silhouette, his red hair was a dull brown in the darkness. Draco could see that he was shivering, not having put on a cloak before coming out. He bit back an instinctive comment about him not being able to afford decent clothes and cleared his throat. Weasley turned around.

"I didn't think you would actually come," he said tonelessly.

"I'm not here to fight you, Weasley," Draco said plainly.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"To talk."

"I have nothing to say to you, Malfoy." He raised his hand and pointed his wand at his heart. "Draw your wand," he ordered when Draco didn't move.

"No."

"I don't want to attack you when you're unarmed, but I will if you refuse. Now draw your wand."

"No," Draco repeated. He folded his arms over his chest, and then wondered if the posture looked childish.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving.

Draco unfolded his arms. "Look, Weasley -" he said, just as Weasley shouted "Impedimenta!"

Draco was thrown backwards, landing hard on his back. His head cracked against the ground, sending a piercing agony through his skull. He groaned and tried to sit up, feeling every muscle in his body ache.

"Fight me!" Weasley shouted. His eyes were glowing with a sort of feverish madness and he still had his wand pointed at him.

He clambered painfully to his feet. "No."

Weasley's next curse hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet again. He threw out an arm to stop his fall – he landed hard and heard a crack, simultaneously feeling pain lance up his arm as his wrist broke.

He swore and cradled his wrist, but that only seemed to enrage the other boy more.

"Fight me back, you – you -"

He threw aside his wand and lunged toward him. Draco just had time to see him draw back his fist before it collided with the side of his face.

Weasley straddled him and started hitting every inch of him he could. "Hit me back!" he yelled, punching him repeatedly.

Draco covered his face with his arms, trying to protect himself. "I'm sorry, alright?!" he yelled.

The blows abruptly stopped. Weasley was straddling his waist, fist poised to hit him, but instead he was staring down at him incredulously. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry! I'm _sorry_ my parents are Death Eaters. I'm _sorry_ we're rich and you're not. I'm _sorry_ I'm in Slytherin instead of your precious Gryffindor. I'm _sorry_ she chose me instead of you and most of all I'm fucking _sorry_ that I'm nowhere near good enough to deserve her!"

Weasley punched him one more time. "You're a god-damn bastard."

Draco winced and rubbed his aching jaw. "Yeah, I'm sorry for that too."

Weasley got off him and sat on the grass beside him. Draco sat up cautiously, weary of another attack.

"I've never wanted to really hurt anyone before, but I would like nothing more than to kill you right now," the Gryffindor boy said blandly, as if he was commenting on the weather.

"I think that would irritate Hermione," Draco pointed out.

Weasley made a choking sound, and it took him a minute to realise that the other boy was letting out a strangled laugh.

He met his eyes and said in a low, even voice, "If you _ever_ do anything, anything at all, to hurt her …"

"I never will," Draco said simply. They were silent for a long moment before he spoke again quietly. "She loves you, you know."

"She doesn't," Weasley said morosely. "She hates me."

"I can tell from the way she talks about you – you and Potter," he told him. "She loves the two of you more than you realise."

"Ron? Ron!" Two familiar voices echoed across the stands. Hermione and Potter were running across the pitch, a silvery invisibility cloak trailing behind them.

Weasley had stood up, but was almost knocked back to the ground again as Hermione threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair.

"I was so worried! I thought – I thought -" Hermione was gasping, but then she caught sight of Draco sitting bloodied and bruised on the ground and pulled away. "What the _hell_ were you thinking, Ronald Weasley?" she demanded, hitting him on the chest.

"Ow! Hermione, what did you do that for?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at Draco, her gaze travelling over each of his injuries. "Are you alright?"

"Don't worry 'Mione," he said as casually as he could whilst sitting in the mud with a broken wrist. "I deserved everything I got."

"How did you know we were here?" Weasley wanted to know.

"We saw you on the map," Potter explained.

"What map?" Draco asked, wondering how a map could see where a person was at the time. To his surprise the three Gryffindors looked at each other a little guiltily. None of them offered a clarification. He raised an eyebrow, but decided not to ask again.

"Hermione was frantic," Potter said to break the silence. "She thought the two of you might be duelling."

"Well I was," Weasley muttered, almost to himself.

"What?"

He suddenly looked awkward as the other two stared at him. "Well, he refused to fight me," he said, waving a hand towards Draco.

"Why?" Hermione asked, gazing at him with her huge brown eyes.

Draco shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't be particularly happy with me if I did – it wouldn't exactly get me on their good side if I started attacking them, would it?"

She smiled at him, and he thought he saw something in her eyes – was it pride? The look faded though as she frowned. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Oh." Draco looked down at himself, realising just how much of a state he looked. "I broke my wrist, didn't want to put weight on it by trying to get up."

"You broke his wrist?" Hermione asked Weasley exasperatedly.

"He broke it himself! He fell over!"

Hermione sighed and walked over to Draco, slipping an arm round his shoulders to help haul him to his feet. Once he was standing he wrapped his free arm around her waist, drawing her close against his body while he cradled his other hand to his chest.

"Are we going back then?" Weasley asked no one in particular.

"I'll meet you guys in the common room," Hermione said lightly, getting two raised eyebrows in return. "Oh come on! He can't go back to his common room looking like this!" she said by way on an explanation.

"What if you get caught?"

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll be fine."

Potter sighed. "Tell you what, we'll take the cloak, you take the Map."

"Okay," she said as Potter passed her a folded piece of paper.

"And there's one more thing …" he added in a slightly menacing voice.

"Save you're big threatening speech, Potter," Draco drawled. "In case you hadn't noticed, Weasley's already shown me what happens if I screw this up."

"Just a friendly warning, Malfoy," he said irritatedly.

Draco grinned. "Hope you didn't spend too much time rehearsing it, Potter."

"Down boys," Hermione muttered.

Weasley rolled his eyes. "Come on Harry, let's go."

"See you in the common room."

"Bye."

The two Gryffindor boys disappeared as Potter threw the cloak over the two of them.

"Nice cloak, Potter," Draco said towards the point they had vanished.

He heard a laugh. "Jealous Malfoy?"

Draco pulled Hermione closer and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Not particularly," he called out, but this time he got no reply.

"Think they're gone?" he asked Hermione.

"Probably," she said, squinting into the darkness. She turned in his arms to face him. "You're a mess."

"Weasley may be poor, but he throws a good punch, I'll give him that," Draco said, wincing as she touched her fingertips to the cut on his temple.

"Here." She pulled out her wand and begun passing it over his injuries, murmuring under her breath. His skin felt warm beneath her wand. She spent over three minutes on his wrist, but by the time she was done it felt as good as new.

"That was incredible – I thought you didn't learn how to mend bones until seventh year?"

Hermione smiled at him slyly. "You don't."

He leaned down to kiss her. "You're bloody amazing, have I ever told you that?" he said after a long moment.

She giggled as he kissed down her neck. "No, but it's nice to hear."

Making use of his healed wrist, Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around in a circle as his lips found hers again. Once he set her back on her feet he cupped her face and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Hermione shivered against him, and he pulled away. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, brushing her lips lightly over his again.

He rubbed his hands down her bare arms and could feel goose-bumps. "You didn't even put a cloak on!"

"I was worried," she said, and then smiled deviously up at him. "I can always share yours though."

Draco chuckled and enfolded her in his cloak, enjoying the feeling of her warm body so close to his. "We should go back," he said.

"I suppose so," she sighed, and pulled the piece of paper Potter had given her out of her pocket. She unfolded it and he saw a truly remarkable map of Hogwarts complete with tiny, _moving_ ink dots labelled with peoples names.

"Is this the map Potter was talking about?" he asked, staring at it in fascination as they started walking.

"Yeah, the Marauders Map," she said.

"_That_ is a pretty impressive piece of magic," Draco said, wondering what kind of charm could possibly produce such results. "Did you do this?"

"No," she laughed. "It belonged to Harry's dad."

"Was he one of these people?" He pointed at the heading, which bore the names 'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.'

"Yeah," Hermione said, and she started telling him a story as they walked back up to the castle about Harry's father, the murder Sirius Black, a Death Eater and their old Defence against the Dark Arts teacher Professor Lupin.

Neither of them noticed the tiny ink-dot in the Quidditch stands labelled Pansy Parkinson.

* * *

Pansy stood in the empty Quidditch stands, silent tears falling down her face. So _this_ was why Draco had been acting so oddly.

She stared down at the moving photo that she had just taken with her wand. The photographic Draco was spinning that filthy Mudblood in a circle, kissing her. They stopped, and Draco had his hands cupped over her cheeks, staring deep into her eyes. They both looked so _happy_.

But they won't be for long, Pansy thought fiercely, anger replacing her tears. That damn Mudblood wouldn't be able to steal her Draco away from her – her, a pure blooded witch of the noble Parkinson line!

She would make Draco see sense, and then he will regret ever laying eyes on the Mudblood. They would _both_ regret it.

Pansy smiled down at the photo of the kissing couple as a vicious plan began to form in her head.


	16. Leverage

Draco lay in his bed, staring up at the canopy. He could scarcely believe last night had happened – Potter and Weasley knowing about his new relationship with Hermione and _not_ blasting him to kingdom come. He actually thought he was pretty lucky to escape with only a few scrapes and bruises and a broken wrist, none of which hurt anymore, thanks to Hermione.

Just the thought of her had him rolling out of bed and running a hand through his sleep-tousled blond hair before hurrying to get ready for breakfast, knowing that the quicker he was, the quicker he would see her again – not that he could really show affection in front of the whole school anyway.

He was in the middle of getting dressed after a hasty shower when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said, even though he wasn't yet wearing a shirt.

Pansy poked her head around the door, and then sauntered inside, eyeing his bare chest lasciviously. "Good morning Draco."

"What do you want?" he asked rudely, in no mood for chit-chat.

She smiled with false sweetness. "I wanted to give you the opportunity to apologise for what you said to me last night."

"And why would I do that?" he snorted.

"Well," she said, appearing to choose her words carefully. "I wouldn't want us to start our new relationship with any bitter feelings."

"We have no relationship Pansy," he said bitingly, pulling a shirt over his head. "I thought I made that clear last night."

"You know full well Draco that our parents both want and expect us to marry – which we will," she said, and he could tell she had rehearsed this little speech. "We both have a responsibility to the Wizarding World to continue our pure blood-lines."

"Yeah, not going to happen Pansy. I don't particularly want my children to have a pug-face," he said nastily.

Hurt flashed briefly over her heavily made up face, quickly followed by anger before settling on distain. "I do have _some_ leverage, Draco," she said coldly.

He paused. "Leverage?"

Pansy reached into the pocket of her robes and handed a piece of paper to him. It was a photograph of him and Hermione on the Quidditch pitch from the night before. He stared in horror as his photographic self wrapped his arms around Hermione and span her around, kissing her enthusiastically.

"I highly doubt your parents will be happy with your little tryst, Draco," Pansy said callously. "What will you do when they disown you for falling for a Mudblood and kick you out of the Manor? How will you live without your inheritance?"

"They won't kick me out," he croaked. "They'll kill me -"

"Then here is what you are going to do, Draco," Pansy said in a business voice. "You're going to go to your precious Mudblood and you're going to finish it with her, then at breakfast you will confess your love for me in front of all of our friends and we will begin our relationship together. You will _never_ speak to the Mudblood again and by the end of the summer we will have announced our engagement."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, wondering how things could have possibly gotten so bad so quickly, when a few minutes ago he had been in a good mood.

"Because I always get what I want, and I want you," Pansy said nonchalantly. She shrugged and added, "And also I've been planning our wedding since third year."

"Let me guess, you've already picked out names for the children?" he said acidly.

She smirked at him. "We're having four."

Draco took a deep steadying breath, trying to stop himself from pulling out his wand and cursing her.

"And if I refuse?"

"I strongly suggest you don't."

"What happens if I refuse, Pansy?" he snarled.

"A thousand copies of this photo will appear in the middle of the Great Hall, which as I'm sure you know, is full of students eating breakfast. At the same time a hundred more copies will be sent to Malfoy Manor." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Your parents won't be impressed, will they? And the Dark Lord … what will he think?"

"Pansy …"

"But you can save yourself Draco," she said, her voice low and earnest. "And you can save the Mudblood too – do you really think the Dark Lord would let her live if he knew about the two of you? He would make you watch as he tortured her -"

"Don't! Just don't," he said anguished.

"Just say you love me, Draco, and everything will be back to normal," she insisted. "The photo vanishes, the Mudblood goes back to Potter and the stupid Order." She stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm. "And we will be together forever."

Staring down at the photo, he realised just how _happy_ he looked. In fact he had never been happier in these past few days with Hermione. She had changed him, made him into a better person. He loved her, he knew that, and to have to give up all that they had together to be with Pansy … But if he didn't, would they ever be able to survive?

Either way he could loose her – to never speak to her or see her again, or the high possibility of them being forcefully ripped apart … Perhaps the Order could protect them - but would they want to - _could_ they, even?

Torn in two, he wondered what the right course was – the truth or lies, saving himself and others or being selfish enough to keep his happiness, love or hate … He couldn't live without Hermione. He had promised her they would find a way to be together, and Malfoy's honoured their promises.

"I guess you leave me no choice …" he said slowly, still looking down at the photo.

"I knew you would say that, Draco." Pansy smiled at him, and moved closer still into the circle of his arms, her face scarcely inches away from his. "Now, do you love me?"

"No."

* * *

Hermione was eating her breakfast in the Great Hall with Harry and Ron. She could tell that Ron was subdued and depressed, but he was doing his best to hide it, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Neither of them had mentioned the admission of his feelings yesterday, though it hung between them unspoken.

Ginny was listening raptly as Harry filled her in on the previous night's events. "He refused to fight him?" she asked.

"Yeah, said he didn't want to hurt Hermione's best friend -"

Harry was interrupted by a loud popping noise from high above them. Nearly every student in the Great Hall looked up to the ceiling.

Hundreds of pieces of paper were fluttering downwards, having appeared out of nowhere. Everyone was looking at them curiously. Several students plucked some out of the air – gasps, whispers and giggles suddenly broke out over the Hall, nearly every eye turned to the Gryffindor or Slytherin table, searching along it for something or someone.

"Holy Shit!" Ron said, staring at one of the pieces in front of him.

"What is it Ron," Hermione asked, but he quickly shoved the paper out of sight.

Harry also picked up one of the papers, and then spat a mouthful of Pumpkin juice over it when he saw what was written there. Ginny looked over his shoulder and her face turned horrified.

Curious, Hermione grabbed one of the pieces of paper herself – and screamed.

It was a moving photograph of her and Draco at the Quidditch pitch. They were kissing passionately, Draco with his arms cupping her face and her grasping the front of his robes. At the bottom of the picture was a caption written in large letters. _Naughty Draco,_ it read, _What will Daddy say?_

Everyone in the Great Hall was staring at her, their expressions a mixture of shock and contempt – people were laughing and jeering, several of them wolf-whistling.

Without even thinking, she picked up her bag and ran out of the Great Hall, wanting nothing more than to get away from those cat-calls.

Harry and Ron shouted after her, but she didn't look back. She headed up the marble staircase, a vague notion in her head that if she went back to bed she would wake up and find this had all been a bad dream.

"Hermione!"

She was at the top of the stairs when Draco's voice stopped her. She turned around and saw him sprinting out of the passage in the dungeons, his hair still wet and tousled. By now students had started filling out of the Hall, holding the photo's and wanting to watch the drama.

Draco took the marble stairs two at a time, and was at her side in seconds. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.

"What are we going to do?" she said frantically against his chest.

"We go public," he growled into her hair.

And then he kissed her in front of most of the students of Hogwarts, at the top of the Marble Staircase.

* * *

The news that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were a couple had spread fast even by Hogwarts standards – though the photos, which Draco told her Pansy Parkinson had been responsible for, had undoubtedly sped the process.

Hermione felt both thrilled and a little self conscious as she walked down the corridor with Draco's arm around her waist. She knew that they were the talk of the school - the Pureblood Slytherin Prince and the bookworm Gryffindor Princess; Hogwarts' very own Romeo and Juliet.

Where ever they walked muttering followed them in the corridors.

"I give it a week."

" … see he's using her for information?"

"Who's the Mudblood lover now, huh?" one Slytherin shouted. Draco tensed, but Hermione muttered, "Just ignore them," under her breath.

"… fathers a Death Eater."

"I think it's sweet."

"Slut -"

Draco had his wand out of his pocket and pointed at Zacharias Smith's throat before anyone could even blink.

"Care to say that a little louder, Smith?" he said in a deadly quiet voice that still managed to carry through the entire corridor.

"Draco, let it go," Hermione said, tugging on his arm.

"Not until he apologises to you," he snarled, not moving an inch as he glared at Zacharias, who had gone white with terror.

"Mr Malfoy." All eyes turned to Snape, who was walking down the corridor with his black robes billowing behind him. Draco slowly lowered his wand.

Snape stopped just in front of him. "Your father is here," he said simply.

Snape pushed open the door to his office, and Draco couldn't stop a slight tremble of fear as he saw his father standing by the fireplace.

Lucius turned when they entered the office and pierced him with his cold, steely eyes. He was holding one of Pansy's photo's in his hand. Draco's eyes darted down to it, before he forced himself to look into his fathers face.

"Draco," he said flatly by way of greeting.

"Hello father."

Snape walked around his desk and settled in his chair, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the floor. His teachers black eyes watched the two of them with interest.

"I have come to find the source of _this_," his father said, handing him the photo.

Draco stared down at himself and Hermione, and took a deep breath. "What about it?" he asked as casually as possible.

His fathers' eyes flashed. "This is the Mudblood Granger, is it not?"

"Her name is Hermione."

He didn't seem to hear him. "And she is one of Potters close friends?"

Draco nodded stiffly.

Lucius stared at his son for a long moment, Draco hardly breathing. Suddenly his father smiled - a true, genuine smile.

"Well Draco, I must say I am very proud of you," he said.

"E-excuse me?" he stammered, absolutely staggered.

"Seducing the girl to get close to Potter … ingenious really," his father said softly, his eyes blazing with pride. "No one thought to use the Mudblood, yet she can provide you with both information and leverage against the Order."

"Father, I -"

"It's a pity Miss Parkinson revealed your plan before you could discover anything, perhaps in time you may have even been able to convert Miss Granger into a spy for us. The Order will undoubtedly be watching her most carefully now – though I dare say she could still be useful …"

"Useful how?" Draco asked, speaking with difficulty due to his dry mouth.

His father shrugged elegantly. "It needs thinking about. First I must consult the Dark Lord and inform him of your plan." Lucius smiled proudly down at him. "I daresay he will be very pleased – perhaps enough so to allow you to join our ranks even before you have left school."

"Father, I -"

"That _is_ what you want, isn't it Draco?" Lucius was suddenly frowning, looking at him suspiciously.

Hermione would have told him no, Draco thought. She would have announced it proudly and bravely like the Gryffindor that she was – which was one of the many reasons he loved her.

But he knew precisely what his father would do if he told him the truth, and in the end, he just wasn't brave like Hermione. She was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin – Gryffindors were brave and Slytherins were cunning. He would find a way to get out of this, but first he needed to buy time …

"Yes Father," he lied through his teeth, hating himself for his cowardice. "That's exactly what I want."


	17. End It

Draco entered the Great Hall, his eyes going immediately to the Gryffindor table. He saw Hermione sitting with Potter and Weasley about half way along the benches and hurried towards them, hardly noticing the whispers and stares directed his way.

"Well?" Hermione said, looking up at him with wide eyes. He knew exactly what she was asking him – how the meeting with his Father had gone.

"Not here," he said, tilting his head towards the entrance hall.

Hermione stood up, and then gestured to Potter and Weasley. "Can they come to?"

"Yeah, I need to ask them a favour anyway," Draco said, getting two raised eyebrows form the Gryffindor boys, but they stood up nevertheless.

Once the four of them were huddled in a deserted corner of the entrance hall, Hermione turned towards him. "Well, what did your Father say?"

"He thinks I'm trying to seduce you for information," he said, ignoring the look Potter and Weasley exchanged.

"And what did you say?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I told him I was."

"_What?_" Potter snarled, while Weasley drew his wand.

"What would you have done?" Draco demanded, spreading his hands. If I had told him I was in love with a muggleborn he probably would have killed me then and there."

Hermione's eyes flew to his, seeming very bright. He slowly flushed, realising what he had just said – he had envisioned something rather more romantic for the first time he told her he loved her.

"I would have told him the truth!" Weasley insisted, still holding his wand.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course you would have Weaselbee, you're a Gryffindor and so you're so _brave_ and _noble_," he drawled, slightly sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, am a Slytherin, so I prefer to use my brains as opposed to my brawn."

"What are you -"

"Honestly Ron, use your head," Hermione said rationally. "I do believe we can turn this to our advantage."

"How?" he asked, his scepticism obvious.

"By using me as a spy," Draco said, almost cheerfully.

Both boys stared at him, neither of them speaking.

"Think about it," Hermione said. "We use Draco to convey false information to his Father, and it could lead to the capture of Death Eaters."

"That … could work," Weasley said, looking mildly impressed.

"We would need to feed some accurate information at first though, make you look reliable," Potter mused.

Hermione looked at Draco. "Are you sure about this though? It could be dangerous."

He grinned at her. "I knew falling for you would be dangerous, it didn't stop me though."

"We will need to run this plan by the Order first, you know," Potter pointed out.

"Fine," Draco shrugged, before turning his piercing gaze to Hermione. "In the mean time, I want you to watch your back."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"No, you'll be paranoid," he said firmly. "Stick to well lighted areas and move in a crowd, avoiding the Dungeons as much as possible. I want you to be back in your common room at least an hour before curfew and to _always_ carry your wand."

"Draco -"

"Hermione. Please," he beseeched her. "For me."

She nodded. "Okay."

"I don't want to see you get hurt because of us, 'Mione," he said simply, reaching out to lightly touch her face with his fingertips. She smiled and took his hand in her own.

"And as for you two," he said, turning to Potter and Weasley. "I want you to be her personal bodyguards between classes – do _not_ let her out of your sight."

Potter gave him an exasperated look. "What do you take us for, Malfoy?" he asked. "You know we would have done that anyway."

"I don't want to be followed around everywhere," Hermione muttered mutinously to herself.

"It shouldn't be for long," Draco reassured her. "We're just trying to keep you safe."

"I know, but it's still irritating," she said. "Though if we are going to be using this plan, don't you think we should go see -"

"Miss Granger!"

The four of them turned around, seeing Professor McGonagall striding across the entrance hall.

She stopped just in front of them, her eyes on Hermione. "A word, if you please."

* * *

Hermione hovered awkwardly in the door to Professor McGonagall's office. She knew exactly why she had been called in, and was dreading the conversation that was surely to come.

"Please, sit down Miss Granger," McGonagall said, taking the seat behind her desk.

Hermione sank cautiously down onto a chair, sitting at the furthest edge of the seat and twisting her hands in her lap.

"Would you like a Ginger Newt?" the Professor asked, extending a tartan tin towards her.

"Um, thank you," she said a little confusedly, taking a biscuit.

"Now then Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, replacing the tin on the side of her desk. She peered sternly at her through her glasses. "I am sure you remember a conversation that we had about just how imprudent a romantic relationship between yourself and Mr Malfoy could be."

"Yes Professor," Hermione said in a small voice.

"As your teacher I have no right to interfere with your … love life. However as a member of the Order I must tell you just how disappointed I am with you for commencing such a relationship anyway."

"I didn't plan for this to happen, Professor," she said honestly.

"No one ever does," Professor McGonagall sighed. "Do not think me unsympathetic Miss Granger, I know the … allures of forbidden attraction." Her nostrils flared, turning white and she stared down at her desk for a moment. "However given the circumstances I am sure you understand the necessity for you to discontinue your relationship with Mr Malfoy."

"D-discontinue it? You mean break up?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean."

"But Professor, I can't do that-"

"Miss Granger, Professor Snape has just informed me of the conversation young Mr Malfoy had with his Father. I know it must be difficult for you to hear this, but the boy confessed to using you for information! As both your Head of House and a member of the Order I simply cannot allow this to continue."

"But Professor -"

"You are essentially an honouree member of the Order of the Phoenix, not to mention a close friend of Mr Potter, upon whom all our hopes lie." Professor McGonagall looked at her almost pityingly. "Mr Malfoy knows this, which is why he chose you."

"But Professor, we thought we could use _him_ as a spy, to feed false information to-"

"Have you lost your senses girl?" Professor McGonagall snapped, any pity in her gaze vanishing. "The Malfoy's loyalty lies with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not with the Order. We simply cannot trust them enough to believe that young Mr Malfoy won't double-cross us."

"I trust him Professor," Hermione said.

"You forget that we are in the middle of a War, Miss Granger. You're trust in a childhood romance is simply not enough to jeopardise the entire Order, and possibly the outcome of this War."

"But … I love him, Professor," she said, trying to ignore the lump that was forming in the back of her throat.

Professor McGonagall was silent for a long moment, when she spoke again her words were reluctant.

"Be that as it may, Miss Granger, if you insist on continuing this relationship, I will have to remove you from the school."

"W-what?" she stammered, shocked.

"We cannot risk a leak of information so close to the heart of the Order and to Potter."

"B-but you _can't_! My education -"

"You are one of Mr Potter's best friends Miss Granger, and if you remain romantically involved with a known Death Eater spy then he and others close to the Order, such as the Weasley's, simply must be removed from your potentially harmful influence."

Hermione put her head in her hands, feeling like her world was being torn in two – what on earth was she supposed to do?

"I must also add that it would be highly unlikely that you will be able to join the Order of the Phoenix upon graduation if you and Mr Malfoy were together romantically, and we _need_ members of your intelligence if we want to win this War,"

She mumbled something incomprehensible into her hands, and Professor McGonagall continued.

"I implore you, Miss Granger, for the sake of the Order, your education and your friends, you _must_ end your relationship."

After a long moments silence, Hermione finally looked up and whipped away the tears that had coursed down her cheeks.

"Yes Professor," she said, her voice cracking. "I will end it."


	18. I Dont Believe You

Hermione sat on the sofa in the Room of Requirement, waiting for Draco. She had her head buried in her hands and felt almost sick as she thought about what she was going to do. She couldn't simply tell him her real reasons for breaking it off with him - he would never accept them, knowing that she loved him and would insist on trying to find a way to be together.

No, she was going to have to be cruel. She was going to have to rip out his heart and stomp on it, no matter the consequences to her own. The best thing to do would be to make him hate her so that their relationship went back to the way it had been, giving them both a sense of closure.

_It's for the best, it's for the best,_ she told herself over and over, though she still couldn't stop a tear trailing down her cheek. She whipped it away impatiently – no matter what happened when she spoke to Draco, he would _not_ see her cry.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, mentally preparing herself. She had to appear cool, collected and most importantly in charge of her emotions. Draco _had_ to believe she didn't love him. She would have to lie to him, mock him and make him believe he was stupid to ever think that a girl like her could ever love an arrogant, muggle-hating, pure-blooded Slytherin …

This was going to be the worst thing she had ever done.

Draco jogged towards the Room of Requirement, Hermione's short note clutched in his hand. She had said she had wanted to see him without explaining what for. She had a meeting with McGonagall earlier that day, so he assumed she had told the Professor their plan and wanted to talk to him about his decision to become a spy for the Order.

He pushed open the door and saw Hermione sitting tensely on the very edge of the sofa. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes darkened with some emotion he couldn't name. She got up as he strode towards her, standing stiffly.

"'Mione, what -"

"We need to talk Draco," she said. The coldness in her voice stopped him in his tracks, so that they were standing at least six feet apart.

"What about?" he asked cautiously, hating the empty indifference in her expression. Surely she wasn't thinking that they should …

Sure enough, Hermione cleared her throat and looked down at his shoes, not meeting his eyes. "Draco, I think its time we ended this."

"No …" he said slowly, wondering what on earth Professor McGonagall had said to her.

"I only really initiated a relationship between us because I found it amusing, but it was wrong of me to let the joke go so far, and I'm sorry for that," she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"A … joke?" he repeated. He still could see her eyes, so he couldn't tell if she was being serious or not.

She suddenly looked up and smirked at him. "Honestly Malfoy, you have tortured me for the past few years, calling me a Mudblood and bullying my friends, and I wanted a little well deserved payback." she said mockingly. "You didn't honestly think that I liked you did you?"

"Yes, I did believe that – I _do_ believe that." He was suddenly angry – she was _lying_ to him, trying to end their relationship. The second she had looked in his eyes he could see the anguish in them, her self hatred for what she was doing.

"I know why you're doing this, Hermione," he continued earnestly. "You're scared of what might happen, but if we love each other then -"

"I … don't love you," she muttered.

"W-what?" he asked, feeling like he had been punched in the stomach. She _had_ to love him, she just had to …

"I said, I don't love you."

Draco stared at her, refusing to believe that. "I don't believe you …"

She was standing tall, looking him straight in the eye, but he could see the pain in them as she spoke. "Believe it, Draco."

"You're lying to me Hermione," he said in a soft, dangerous voice. He slowly drew his wand out of his pocket. She glanced down at it briefly before raising her gaze back to his face.

"I'm not," she said almost defiantly.

"You are," he said, advancing on her, his wand raised. "And I'll find out the truth."

She took a frightened step back, her leg hitting the sofa. Her cold, indifferent mask slipped for a moment. "Draco -"

"Legilimens!" he shouted, pointing his wand at her.

A rush of images and sensations suddenly overwhelmed him and Hermione, who had never learned Occulmency, fell to her knees.

_He saw himself in the Prefect's Bathroom and she thought that he was beautiful … He shouted for her to get behind him as the spiders drew closer, the protectiveness and fear for her clear in his voice … Strong arms wrapped around her that kept her from falling into the crushing darkness of pain …His voice murmuring in her ear, keeping her anchored in life … Her realisation that she liked him as he came in the hospital wing … Waking up together in the Room of Requirement … Her talking to Ginny, "I think I'm falling in love with him" … Her mixture of elation and fear as he grabbed her and kissed her at the top of the marble staircase in front of the school … And finally her heart-wrenching despair as she told him she didn't love him –_

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed, gripping the sides of her head as tears coursed down her cheeks.

Draco pulled back from her mind and stared down at Hermione. She was on her floor, having fallen over when the spell hit her. He walked slowly towards her and sank down to his knees in front of her.

She had her eyes closed, tears trickling down her cheeks and was rocking back and forth slightly. He reached out to touch her face, but she didn't respond or even open her eyes.

Moving his hands, he gripped her hair and pulled her almost roughly towards him, capturing her mouth with his own. She tensed in his arms and made a surprised noise before slowly starting to kiss him back. He could taste the salt of her tears on his lips and used his fingers to brush them away.

She suddenly pulled back and started hitting him.

"How _dare_ you read my mind?!" she shrieked at him, slapping him hard around the face before punching him in the stomach. "How could you _do_ that to me?!"

Draco stayed still, taking the blows she dealt him, knowing he deserved every single one.

After a long moment her anger subsided. She rested her head against his chest and sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her back and forth as she cried.

"You had no right to do that," she said in a broken whisper into his chest.

"I had every right," he whispered back. "You were lying to me, and you were lying to yourself."

Her only reply was a shuddering gasp as she tried to regain her composure. She pulled away from him and whipped her eyes on her sleeve. "I swore I wouldn't cry," she murmured to herself.

"Why did you tell me you didn't love me?" he breathed, staring at her.

"I thought – I thought that it would be - easier for us if you thought I - hated you," she hiccoughed.

"Why?"

"Because we have to stop this," she said in an agonised whisper.

"Why?" he asked again.

Hermione grew even more agitated in his arms, her words coming out in a vast torrent. "McGonagall says she would throw me out of school! I wouldn't see Harry and Ron anymore, and they are my best friends, Draco! I don't know what I would do without them. And the Order – the Order doesn't trust you, and they – they wouldn't let me join if we were together …"

"Shhh 'Mione, its okay," he soothed, gently rubbing her back. "We will -"

"Don't say we will figure something out, Draco," she said, staring up at him with her liquid brown eyes. "You always say that, but there is no way we can be together …"

He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"

"Of course," she said.

"And do you love me?"

The warm brown in her eyes seemed to melt as they smouldered with his, their lips scant inches apart.

"Yes," she breathed. "I love you."

"Then listen to me, alright?" he said, staring straight into her eyes. "No matter what, _we will be together_."

"How?" she said miserably.

"First thing after the Quidditch match tomorrow I'm going to go to Dumbledore and declare my allegiance to the Order," he told her. "I'll _prove_ to them that I'm on your side – they can use Veritaserum, hell they can read _my_ mind if that's what it takes."

"You'd do that?" she asked, gazing up at him. "Join the Order, for me?"

"Of course I would, I love you Hermione Granger."

A single tear tracked down her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, agonized, as he whipped it away with a fingertip.

"I just …" she whispered. "I love you, but … I can't help but think … I don't know, that we are going to be … torn apart …somehow."

"Never," he vowed, cupping her face – but even as he spoke he wondered if he would be able to keep that promise. "And even if they do break us apart then know that I will love you until the day I die."

Draco drew her against him, holding her close to his body as his hands wrapped around her. For a long moment they stayed locked in that position, embracing on their knees in the middle of the floor.

Hermione drew back and brushed her lips lightly against his. "Stay with me here tonight," she murmured.

He tensed. "Hermione …"

"Stay with me Draco," she whispered. "I want to show you just how much I love you."

"You have nothing to prove to me Hermione," he said insistently, though he still couldn't stop his body reacting to her words.

"I know, but I still feel like this isn't going to last … and I want to know what it feels like, to be loved by you …"

He took her hands in both of his own, staring at her earnestly. "You're sure 'Mione?"

"I'm sure," she leaned forward and kissed him again. "Will you stay?"

"Yes, I'll stay."


	19. The Game

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the match, Hermione?" Ron asked, sporting a blue Ravenclaw scarf around his neck.

She looked up from the book she was reading, curled in an armchair beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "No Ron, I've already told you."

"But why not?"

"Come on, think about it – the stands will be full of Slytherins and I would be cheering on a boyfriend I was supposed to have broken up with. Not really the smartest plan in the world, don't you think?"

Ron made a face at the word boyfriend and then sighed dejectedly. "We'll give you a blow by blow account of the match though," he promised.

"Can't wait," she said with mild sarcasm that the boys didn't notice.

"What are you going to do then, Hermione?" Harry asked, swinging a cloak around his shoulders.

"I might work on that essay for McGonagall on human transformations," she replied.

"I still can't believe you're choosing homework over Quidditch," Ron said exasperatedly.

She grinned at him. "Well at least I won't be up late tomorrow night trying to get it finished before lessons."

They both rolled their eyes at her and said goodbye, following the crowd out of the common room towards the pitch and leaving Hermione alone.

She had told Harry and Ron that Draco intended to join the Order, but hadn't given any details on what had helped him make that decision. Even now she felt a warm flush creep over her skin as she remembered being with him the night before – how soft and cool his fingertips had been as they had trailed over her bare skin, him telling her she was beautiful as he kissed his way down her body and the sensation of him moving inside her.

Shaking her head to dispel her vivid daydreams, she pulled her essay towards her and started working.

* * *

Draco caught himself whistling as he unlocked the door to the Slytherin changing rooms. He hadn't been this happy in, well … ever, he supposed.

He knew exactly the reason why, of course. His night with Hermione had been simply incredible. He was no stranger to sex, but there had been something different last night – everything had just been so perfect …

_No, not quite perfect …_ he frowned to himself. He remembered the stark, almost terrified look in Hermione's eyes as she had told him she thought they were going to be torn apart.

Well, he simply wouldn't let that happen, he thought as he sat on one of the long wooden benches to wait for his team. He was still anxious about his father and the reaction of several people in his house, but as long as Potter and Weasley were watching over her then she would be safe – and his father wouldn't matter as soon as he had the protection of the Order …

Dumbledore would most likely be watching the Match, and he intended to go find the headmaster immediately after the game was decided to declare his allegiance to the Order.

_Everything will be fine,"_ he told himself, not realising just how wrong he was.

* * *

Hermione sighed frustratedly and searched her schoolbag once again for her transfiguration book, even though she knew it wasn't there. She knew exactly where it would be – the little table in the Library where she had sat to plan her essay.

She knew that Draco would be furious if she went out to get it alone, and so would Harry and Ron. But honestly, it was ridiculous that they all thought she needed protecting, she was a big girl and could take care of herself!

Besides, it was only the Slytherins that she needed to be nervous about, and they would all be at the Quidditch stadium anyway to cheer on their team, so it was unlikely that she would encounter anyone - and if she did then she always had her wand.

Her decision made, she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out of the common room towards the Library.

* * *

Draco had been pacing the changing rooms for the past twenty minutes. He stopped and checked his watch, swearing when he saw the time.

Where the _hell_ was his team?

* * *

The Library was deserted as Hermione walked between the shelves, watching the dust float in the shafts of light from the windows. She paused to look outside, straining her eyes to try and see the distant figures on the Quidditch Pitch. Draco would be out there somewhere and a part of her wished she could be out there cheering him on – but Draco had been the one to insist that she didn't come to the Match for her own safety.

She had found the book exactly where she knew she would and was packing it into her bag when she heard a muffled noise, like a smothered giggle.

She drew her wand and spun around, pointing it towards the empty corridor.

Nothing was there, but she couldn't stop a small feeling of doubt worming its way into her stomach. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hurried out of the Library. The sooner she was back in the Gryffindor common room the better.

She was over half way back when Pansy Parkinson stepped out of a side passage, blocking her path. Hermione watched her warily, but the Slytherin girl didn't even have her wand drawn.

"Well well well, if it isn't the little Mudblood," Pansy sneered, smiling nastily. "I don't know why Draco even likes you, you bushy-haired bitch."

"Maybe it's because I'm actually a nice person," Hermione replied with sarcastic sweetness.

Pansy's face darkened and she thrust a hand into her robes for her wand. "Don't you _dare_ talk back to me, you filthy Mudblood."

"Impedimenta!" Hermione said, knocking Pansy off her feet.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice behind her shouted and her wand flew out of her hand.

She spun around and found the corridor behind her filled with Slytherins, all of them leering at her. Blaise stood at the front, wearing his green Quidditch robes and twirling her wand around his long fingers.

Pansy had been nothing more than a distraction - of all the stupid tricks to fall for …

"And what do we have here?" the Slytherin boy taunted, walking slowly forwards as Hermione backed away in fear. "Draco's little Mudblood _whore_."

"Shouldn't you be at the Match?" she asked, trying to distract him as she looked for an exit.

"We've thought of a better game to play," he said as his eyes roved lecherously over her body. The others behind him laughed appreciatively.

"Tell her the game, Zabini," Crabbe said gormlessly.

"Yeah Blaise, tell her the game," Goyle repeated.

Blaise was standing right in front of her now and she would feel his warm, moist breath on her cheek, making her shudder. He smiled down at her though his eyes were cold. "The games called Hunt the Mudblood."

Hermione had heard enough. She punched Blaise in the face as hard as she could and he doubled over in pain, swearing.

She turned, intending to run while they were distracted, but something caught hold of her ankle and bought her crashing to the floor. Twisting around, she saw that the curse had worn off Pansy, who had grabbed her as she tried to run.

"You should have stayed away from Draco, Mudblood!" she hissed as Hermione tried to pull her leg free.

A booted foot suddenly slammed into her side, sending pain shooting through her body. She cried out and instinctively curled into a ball.

Blaise kicked her again. "That's for breaking my nose, you fucking bitch!" he roared, and sure enough his face was a bloodied mess.

Hands suddenly grasped viciously at her robes, pulling her to her feet. She screamed once, but they hit her with a silencing charm. Thrashing against their grip, she hit out at whatever she could.

A hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back so that her terrified eyes met Blaise's angry face. "I can certainly see why Draco keeps you around, Mudblood," he said as she clawed at the hand he had fisted in her hair. ""You're feisty – and it's more fun that way, more of a challenge."

He forced her towards an empty classroom, dragging her by her hair. She was shoved brutally to the floor, skinning her knees, only to be hoisted back up by Crabbe and Goyle's meaty hands.

They slammed her down onto a desk, pinning her down by her arms. Blaise leaned over her, pressing his hips against her and she was both horrified and disgusted to feel the hardness at the front of his trousers.

_They really mean to do this …_ she thought desperately as a tear trickled down from the corner of her eye.

"Don't struggle now, Mudblood. Who knows, maybe you'll even like it, you fucking whore," Blaise whispered in her ear in a horrible parody of a lover while a warm drop of his blood dripped onto her face. Using her own wand, he trailed a burning line up her thigh with the tip, leaving a seared line of red skin and drawing up her skirt to reveal her knickers.

"You two, hold her down," he instructed to Crabbe and Goyle, who increased the pressure on Hermione's arms. "You'll both have your turn when I've finished with her."

Blaise forced her legs apart with one hand, ignoring her thrashing and the tears that were coursing down her cheeks, while the other nonchalantly undid the zipper on his fly.

* * *

"Fuck fuck fuck! Draco swore, kicking the wooden bench in the changing rooms. The Match should have started ten minutes ago and his team still hadn't arrived.

He was going to have to forfeit the match because of them.

"Mr Malfoy?" Madame Hooch was standing at the door to the changing rooms. She looked at him almost pityingly. "Its time."

Draco sighed. The rules of Quidditch stated that if a team wanted to forfeit then the Captain would have to personally tell the other team. The Ravenclaws had been waiting on the Pitch for him, and now he would have to embarrass himself and his house in front of the entire school – all because his fucking '_team-mates_' hadn't bothered to show up.

He shouldered his Nimbus two-thousand-and-one and followed Madame Hooch out on to the Pitch with his head held high. No matter the blow to his pride, he would forfeit with dignity.

He walked onto the Pitch and saw the stands – as usual about three-quarters of the school were decked in blue, supporting Ravenclaw. But the strange thing was that the Slytherin side of the stands was over half empty. No team, and few supporters …

What the _hell_ could be so important that they would miss the match against Ravenclaw?

"No …" he said to himself, feeling his stomach drop.

He spun around and scanned the Ravenclaw supporters, looking for two familiar faces. He found them about half way up the stands and sprinted towards them, throwing aside his broom and ignoring the shouts of Madame Hooch and the jeers of the Ravenclaw team.

"Potter! Weasley – where is she?" he demanded, reaching the two boys in the stands, both of whom were wearing blue in support of Ravenclaw.

"Who, Hermione?" Potter asked, seeming confused.

"She's in the common room," Weasley said, looking at Draco like he had lost his mind. "Why?"

Draco stared towards where the teachers were all sitting, a horrible suspicion rising within him. Everyone – the students and the teachers - was in the stands except Hermione and the Slytherins, no one to hear a scream …

"Fuck!" he shouted, mostly to himself.

Taking the stairs of the stands two at a time he hurled himself back down to the Pitch and ran to pick up his broom.

"Mr Malfoy, what -?" Madame Hooch started to say, but the rest of her words were lost as Draco mounted his broom and kicked off hard, the wind rushing in his ears.

Turning towards the castle he accelerated as fast as his broom allowed, lying almost flat against the handle.

"Come on," he growled. "Faster!"

* * *

Hermione kicked Blaise hard in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. Taking advantage of Crabbe and Goyle's temporary distraction, she tried to pull her arms free, twisting in their grasp.

Blaise's hand suddenly whipped across her face and she tasted blood in her mouth. "You're going to regret doing that," he snarled at her. "I'm going to make you beg me for mercy, you filthy Mudblood."

She tried to kick him again, but Blaise caught her foot and twisted savagely, sending pain shooting up her leg, her scream stopped by the silencing charm.

He grabbed her thighs to keep her still, but she writhed and trashed, trying to throw him off.

"Fuck this," he muttered, straightening up.

Hermione felt a rush of relief, but it quickly faded as Blaise pulled out his wand and hit her with the full-body-bind curse, freezing her in place.

"Now then, where were we?" he crooned in her ear as he leant back over her.

The door banged open, but she couldn't turn her head. Draco's cold voice suddenly rang though the room, instantly calming her even though she couldn't see him.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he demanded frostily.

Blaise grinned, not looking remotely frightened. "Come on, Draco, didn't daddy ever teach you to share?"

"Step away from the girl, Zabini."

He trailed his fingers over her frozen cheek, wetting the tips with her tears. "Looks like our dates going to be postponed, Granger."

"Now, Blaise!" Draco ordered.

"Alright, alright," Blaise chuckled, moving away from Hermione.

Draco stepped into her line of vision, wearing his green Quidditch robes and his wand pointing toward the Slytherins. He muttered the counter curse and she immediately felt her body unfreeze.

"Are you okay?" he murmured to her, his eyes still focused on Blaise and the others, who were standing to one side watching them interestedly.

"Yes," she whispered, surprised at how broken her voice was.

Draco helped her sit up and slide off the desk, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her weight off her injured foot. He stooped down to pick her wand up off the floor and pocketed it.

"We're leaving," he said to the Slytherins.

"Not so fast, Draco," Blaise smiled, even though his face was still coated in drying blood. "You wouldn't begrudge your dear friends of a little fun with your pet whore now, would you?"

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed and leered at her in a way that made her shrink back against Draco.

"Don't call her that," he snarled, his expression livid with anger. "You had absolutely no right to attack her, and I can assure you that you will regret this."

"Actually I have every right," Blaise said nonchalantly, examining the nails on one of his hands. "We were instructed to bring her down to the common room."

"By who?"

Blaise looked up from his nails and grinned at Draco. "Your father."

* * *

"What are we going to do?" Hermione whispered as Draco helped her down the marble staircase. She was speaking softly so that the Slytherins behind them wouldn't hear.

"I don't know, 'Mione," Draco replied, trying to suppress his panic. "I don't know."

She bit her lip, but didn't ask him any more questions. Draco wondered if she was regretting ever starting a relationship with him, everything just seemed to be going from bad to worse.

"Anything I say in there, you know it will all be an act right?" he asked her.

She almost smiled. "Same goes for me too, I suppose."

"And no matter what happens, Hermione," he murmured in her ear as they reached the doorway to the Slytherin common room. "I promise, I _swear_ I will not let them hurt you."

"Snake eyes," Zabini said from behind him, giving the door the password.

"I love you, Draco," Hermione whispered to him, though he didn't get a chance to reply as the stone panel slid open, revealing the Slytherin common room.

The dank room was filled with Slytherins, all of them dressed in green for the Quidditch match – though evidently they had decided that they would find kidnapping Hermione more entertaining.

His father stood regally by the fire, one hand resting on the mantle.

"Ah, Draco. You're here, good." His cold grey eyes moved over to Hermione, surveying her in a way that made him want to reach for his wand. "And Miss Granger too, what a pleasure."

"Father, what's going on?" Draco demanded.

Lucius straightened up and brushed some imaginary lint off his robes. "I have spoken to the Dark Lord, Draco, and he is very pleased with you. He has decided that Miss Granger is to be used as a hostage in order to draw Potter out of school. You are to give him this message."

His father passed him a piece of parchment written in a thin, spidery hand that made his skin crawl just by looking at it. It was signed from the Dark Lord, and gave detailed instructions of the exchange, which was to happen at Malfoy Manor.

"And if Potter refuses?" Draco asked.

"Then I daresay she will still be a useful source of information. She must know a lot about Potter …"

Draco glanced at Hermione, who was watching him, her eyes dark and unreadable.

He took a deep breath. "This won't work, Father."

Lucius raised an elegant blond eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Granger going missing the day after our relationship is made public?" Draco said, waving a hand carelessly towards her. "Suspicion will naturally fall on me."

His Father smiled. "How perceptive you are, Draco. Of course, you are right; however the Dark Lord wishes to make you one of us."

The common room was suddenly filled with awed murmurs and he found himself on the receiving end of several jealous stares. Hermione, however, was horror-struck.

"B-but … now?" he stammered. "I haven't finished school yet."

"The façade we play of our allegiance to the school and the ministry will no longer be of any importance once you join our ranks," Lucius said, smiling down at his son. "I am very proud of you, my son."

Draco didn't think that his Father had ever called him 'my son' before. It struck him as ironic that it was his one act of rebellion, falling in love with a muggleborn, in seventeen yeas of trying to please his father that had made him proud enough to call him his son.

"… Thank you, Father."

"And now, Miss Granger will accompany me back to the Manor and I shall expect you to contact me tomorrow with news of Potter, am I understood?"

"Yes Father, but … you won't hurt her?"

Lucius chuckled. "It would show bad faith to hurt her before the exchange takes place. Though if Potter refuses, however …" he sighed delicately as the Slytherins leered at Hermione, some of them making rude gestures at her.

Draco forced himself to smile, knowing that any more concern that he showed would appear suspicious. He reached forward to brush his fingers over her cheek, ignoring the pang he felt as she flinched back even though he knew she was only acting. "Good, I wouldn't want you breaking my new toy."

Hermione slapped his hand away, though there was no anger in her eyes.

"And now, Miss Granger, if you would like to come with me?" his Father said, extending a courteous hand.

"Like hell!" she burst out, before shutting her mouth firmly, seeming to realise it was unwise to talk back to a Death Eater.

"I don't know how well she can walk, Father. Zabini hurt her foot," Draco explained. "Maybe I should come with you to -"

"That won't be necessary," Lucius said, his cold eyes glinting.

He stepped forward and tossed Hermione over one shoulder, ignoring her squawk of protest. Several people jeered as her skirt hoisted up, revealing the creamy skin on the backs of her thighs.

"I expect to hear from you tomorrow, Draco," he said as he stepped towards the fire.

Hermione frantically met his eyes, naked fear in them. In desperation he reached towards her mind, muttering the incantation under his breath.

_Don't worry, Hermione._ he projected at her, wondering if she could hear him. _We'll save you, I promise._

She nodded, looking slightly reassured, though still scared.

_I love you, Hermione_ he sent at her as his father threw floo powder into the grate.

_Love you too, Draco._

"Malfoy Manor!" Lucius shouted, and he and Hermione vanished in a flash of emerald fire.

Draco sank down into one of the black leather armchairs, staring blindly at the fire. Around him the Slytherins were talking excitedly about what had just happened, several of them congratulating him and telling him how lucky he was that he was going to become a Death Eater, but he tuned them out.

A friendly slap landed on his back, jolting him out of his revive. Zabini was sitting down next to him, grinning.

"You know, Drake, for a second back in that class room I thought you had gone _Gryffindor_ on us."

Remembering the role he had to play, Draco formulated a reply with difficulty. "Don't be ridiculous, Zabini," he said, forcing the words out. "I just didn't want you touching what's mine."

He chuckled and whipped the dried blood from his face on to his sleeve. "Shame, I thought that Mudblood would have been a lot of fun."

"Yeah …" he said, desperately trying to think of an excuse to leave.

"So how are you going to get that to Potter?" Zabini asked, indicating the letter.

Draco looked down at the Dark Lords note and stood up, realising he had the perfect excuse in his hands. "I'll owl it to him. I'm going to go to the Owlery."

He made his way across the common room, dodging people trying to draw him into conversation or attempting to shake his hand.

"Draco!" he hard Pansy shout, and he reluctantly turned around.

She instantly draped herself over him, holding on to the front of his Quidditch robes and trying her best to look seductively up at him. "I was thinking, since you don't have to associate with the Mudblood anymore, maybe we could …"

"Sorry Pans," he said, hiding his disgust as he held up the letter. "I'm on official Death Eater business."

"Oh, well maybe when you get back …?" she said.

He grinned at her, knowing full well that he wasn't coming back. "Sure Pansy, that would be great."

He disentangled himself from her and crossed the rest of the common room. Breathing a sigh of relief as the stone door slid shut behind him, he looked down at the note in his hands.

Instead of going to the Owlery, he ran as fast as he could to the Gryffindor common room to find Potter and Weasley.


	20. IMPORTANT authors note

**STOP RIGHT THERE!!!!!**

Okay, here's a quick IMPORTANT Authors note …

Do you remember I said that I wasn't sure how to end this? Well here there are **TWO ALTERNATE ENDINGS.**

If you want the **Non-Dramione** ending, go to **Sins of the Father**

If you want the **Dramione **ending, go to **A Mothers love**

Got that? good – don't complain to me if you get it wrong, its all spelt out there!

And thanks for your patience in reading this far! =D


	21. Sins of the Father

The night was cold and bitter as Draco apparated outside the gates of his childhood home. Darting off the road, he hid in the bushes as he stared up at the huge hedges flanking the wrought iron gates, waiting for the others.

There were two other popping noises and dark figures appeared in the road exactly where he had been standing a few seconds ago. He couldn't see their faces, but they seemed to look around apprehensively, both of them with hands in their pockets, no doubt wrapped around their wands.

"Psst! Over here," Draco hissed at them.

Potter and Weasley hurried over to the bushes and concealed themselves beside him. Potter was limping and cursing about something.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Splinched myself," he grunted, taking off one of his shoes and sock.

"You left behind your _toenails_?" Draco said incredulously as he saw other boy's bleeding toes.

"Watch it Malfoy," Weasley snarled. "I told you doing this without an apparating licence was stupid."

"Would you rather leave Hermione in there to die?" he demanded.

"She wouldn't even be in there if it wasn't for you!" Weasley said vehemently.

"Can it, you two," Potter said. "Shit, does anyone have anything I can use to stop the bleeding?"

"Here," Draco said, pulling out his wand – he still had Hermione's wand in his pocket from earlier – and waved it over Potters foot and muttering a complex spell. The two Gryffindor boys both tensed, but he ignored them, not letting them break his focus.

"Nice work," Potter said, examining his feet after he was done. The spell couldn't re-grow his toenails, but it had closed the wounds.

"Hermione taught it to me," Draco said softly, turning towards his home. They followed his gaze and looking towards the huge manor house. In the moonlight the grey stone looked ghostly, with several windows on the upper floor were lit, the lights flickering in the darkness. He wandered if Hermione was behind any of those windows, whether she was frightened … whether she was thinking of him.

"Right, remember what I told you about the wards?" Draco asked, tearing his eyes away from the manor.

"Yeah, you can only get through if you have Malfoy blood or something?" Weasley said, scrunching up his face.

Draco sighed, preparing to explain again. "You can only get in if you are a member if the family or if you have been specifically invited. As I have Malfoy blood then I can get us through the wards."

"What about getting out?" Potter asked.

Draco hesitated, and then shrugged. "The wards are only affective on entry. They don't stop people leaving," he lied.

His stomach flooded with ice as they accepted his lie without question. The wards _did_ stop people leaving, and he could only hope that he would be leaving with them so that they would be able to actually escape.

"Did you bring the cloak?"

"Yeah," Potter replied, pulling the silvery material out of an inside pocket.

"Okay, now you and Weasley get under the cloak and stay hidden for as long as you can. Ideally you won't need to take it off at all, but if we are discovered then I would rather have the element of surprise on our side, alright?"

The two Gryffindor boys gave him withering looks – it _had_ been the third or possibly forth time he had gone over the plan – and vanished as Potter threw the cloak over them.

Draco crept out into the road and stood in front of the imposing gates. "Are you guys there?" he hissed. "This is so weird."

"Shut up, Malfoy, we're here," Weasley's voice said out of the darkness.

"How are you going to open the gate?" Potters voice asked. "I bet they've been bewitched so Alohomora doesn't work."

"The gates are only an illusion, they are part of the magical wards," Draco explained. "Now, take my hand," he said, extending one hand towards where the voices had come from.

"What? Why?" Weasley asked suspiciously.

"Because Weaslebee, the wards require skin to skin contact with a member of the blood to pass. Now one of you must be touching me, and the other must be touching him, so that we are all linked via our skin." Neither of them replied, and Draco was left standing with one hand outstretched stupidly in the middle of the road.

"Oh man up!" he said exasperatedly, starting to get annoyed. "You're not going to catch any sort of disease from me! If anything, _I_ should be worried about catching something from _you_."

He heard something that sounded like a muffled sigh and suddenly something invisible grabbed his hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

There was an unenthusiastic "Yeah" and a mumbled "Let's get this over with," though he couldn't tell who spoke.

Draco walked towards the gate, raising his free hand up to his eye level. He felt the magic of the wards flow out from the gate as he stepped through the illusion, rushing through his body and burning his blood in a frenzied examination before abruptly ending, leaving him feeling both drained and invigorated.

"You two okay?" he asked the air behind him.

"Yeah …" Potters voice came floating out of the darkness. "That was …"

"Different," Weasley supplied.

"Different is a good way to describe it."

"Come on," Draco interrupted them. "Let's get up to the manor. Remember, keep the cloak on."

They had only walked about two steps when Draco glanced down at his hand. "I know I'm stunningly attractive, but there really is no reason to keep holding my hand."

There was a noise of disgust and who-ever-it-was wrenched their hand away.

"I always knew you two must be attracted to me," he said sarcastically. "It's the only way to explain the animosity."

"Not bloody likely, Malfoy," Weasley snarled.

Draco smirked. "Sorry to break you're little hearts, but my heart belongs to Hermione."

* * *

Hermione shivered in darkness of the cellar beneath Malfoy Manor. She didn't know how long she had been down there for, but the constant silence and heavy darkness was beginning to press on her nerves.

She had spent the first few hours of her captivity exploring her prison. Feeling her way around, she had discovered what had felt like several wine casks, an ancient stone bench, a rough metal bucket and the stairs she had been thrown down that led to the only exit.

Sitting on the bench, she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, as she wondered where Draco was. She remembered what he had told her about the cellar while they had been in the forest -

"_"When I was six I borrowed my fathers broom without permission and went flying around the grounds. He beat me unconscious without even lifting a finger. He stayed sitting in his chair the whole time, his wand in one hand and a wineglass in the other. I woke up in the dungeons and was kept in there for three whole days without any meals. When I was finally allowed out, filthy and starving, do you know what I found waiting for me in my bedroom? A brand new broomstick, just for me, neatly wrapped up in silver paper." _

She could easily picture him as a small child crouched here in the darkness, crying out in vain to parents who didn't care about him.

Her stomach grumbled and she wondered if she would be given any food as the hours wore on. But no, she realised, they wouldn't starve her. She wasn't supposed to be hurt. Draco had promised to save her. He had wanted to join the Order, after all.

_But does he really?_ a suspicious little voice said in the back of her mind. _How can you really know he loves you? You're alone in a prison because of him. The perfect bait in a trap for Harry. How do you know he didn't want it this way?_

Frustrated with her minds paranoid speculations, Hermione took to pacing around her prison, despite the pain in her foot from where Zabini had twisted it – twenty paces along one wall, twelve along the other, around the stairs, another twelve paces and she was back to where she started, only to make the loop again.

She had done forty-seven laps around the dungeon when she realised what she was doing – she shouldn't have to wait for some man to come and save her! She was Hermione Granger, a prefect, one of the best students Hogwarts had ever seen and the brains of the Golden Trio! If anyone could find a way to escape from this cellar, it would be her.

Energised, she examined the lock of the cellar door – the only exit. She couldn't sense a magical lock or any kind of wards around the door, and she distinctly remembered the ominous click of a key being turned as Lucius had shut her in, meaning that the door wasn't blocked with magic at all!

Well, Hermione hadn't spent eleven years of her life in the muggle world without learning a few useful tricks. She pulled an ordinary bobby-pin out of her hair and inserted it into the lock. After a few minutes manipulating the hairpin in the dark she heard a satisfying click and cautiously opened the door.

The cellar opened up to the sparkling clean kitchen, which was thankfully deserted. Night had fallen, meaning she had been in the dungeon for at least eight hours.

She crept out into an ornate hallway. The walls were panelled with highly shined, dark wood and the floor was covered in rich Persian carpets. Hanging on the walls were regal looking portraits of white-blond men and women who were fortunately sleeping in their frames.

She was wondering what she should do – whether she should hide and wait for Draco to come, or should try and make a break for it while she could – when one of the portraits woke up and spotted her.

"Mudblood! Filth, be gone from this place!" the portrait shrieked, reminding her of Mrs Black. Terrified of the noise the picture was making, Hermione turned and sprinted up the corridor, the pain in her foot forgotten as she wished she had her wand so that she could stun the portraits.

The other paintings had jerked awake and were raising the alarm.

"The prisoner is escaping!"

"Filthy Mudblood!"

"She's here, in the West Wing!"

Hermione heard footsteps running towards her and panicked, skidding around to run the other way. Lucius Malfoy appeared around a corner, his face flushed and his wand out. Shock crossed his face for a moment, before being replaced by a sneer. He raised his wand and opened his mouth to speak –

Without even slowing down, Hermione ran straight at him, knocking him to the ground before he could say his spell. Curling her hand into a fist she punched him as hard as she could in the mouth before rolling off him and jumping to her feet.

"Petrificus Totalus!" a voice shouted.

Hermione tried to turn, but the spell hit her square in the back, freezing her muscles and sending her falling to the floor on her face.

"Are you alright, Lucius?" the voice asked. It was distinctively feminine and horribly familiar. _Not her …_ Hermione thought to herself, remembering what had happened at the Ministry of Magic.

"I'm fine, Bella," Lucius said, sounding annoyed.

A foot connected solidly with her side, rolling her onto her back so that she could look up at the two people. Lucius was climbing to his feet, one had wiping across his bloodied lip, while Bellatrix Lestrange stared cruelly down at her.

"Well well well, if it isn't the Mudblood Granger," she said, with an evil smile that sent a cold shiver up Hermione's spine. "Cissy told me all about Draco's plan – quite ingenious of him. I believe he will do the family proud."

"That is if the bitch doesn't escape before the Dark Lord arrives."

"Oh she won't escape again," Bellatrix laughed coldly. "Lucius, you wouldn't mind if I played with her a little, would you now? I do so _love_ Mudbloods …"

"You can do whatever you want with her, Bella," Malfoy said coldly. "The fucking bitch actually hit me, so she deserves to be punished."

"The drawing room?" Bellatrix suggested lightly.

"Better than this corridor." Lucius grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her. He wasn't the least bit gentle and she felt several hairs ripped from her scalp, though the stunning spell stopped her from crying out.

She was thrown onto a carpet in the middle of a handsome room with ebony furniture and a huge fireplace. Bellatrix muttered something and Hermione felt the spell lifted from her. She climbed warily to her feet, her eyes on the two Death Eaters.

"You're wondering why I removed the spell, aren't you Mudblood?" Bellatrix said conversationally, though her eyes had a disturbing glint in them.

Hermione hesitated, and then nodded, not trusting her voice.

"You see Mudblood, torture is a form of art," she said, caressing her wand lovingly. "To get the full satisfaction you must be able to hear every scream and watch every writhe of pain."

"You're sick," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "You're really sick."

Bellatrix's face darkened and she raised her wand. "Don't you _dare_ talk back to me, you filthy Mudblood."

"Remember Bella," Lucius said from where he watched by the fire. "Don't kill her, the Dark Lord needs her."

"I won't," she breathed, her demented gaze fixed on Hermione. "I'm just going to soften her up a bit."

Hermione raised her chin defiantly, trying to stop herself from trembling. She was a Gryffindor and she would _not_ show any fear, even knowing what was to come …

"_Crucio!_"

* * *

Draco was at the doors of the manor when he heard Hermione's agonised scream. Without pausing to think, he pulled out his wand and wrenched open the main doors, ignoring Potter and Weasley as he sprinted towards the sound.

A familiar demented laugh rang out amidst the screaming. "Beg me for mercy, Mudblood! Beg!"

Draco kicked open the door to the drawing room – Hermione was curled up on the rug, her body shaking as pain racked her body, while his Aunt Bella was laughing, her wand pointed down at Hermione. His father was leaning against the fireplace and watching the scene with clinical detachment even though his lip was bleeding freely and there was a smear of blood arching over one pale cheek where he had tried to wipe it away.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at his Aunt, making both her wand and his fathers fly into his hands.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Bella snarled at him, looking positively possessed.

"I'm taking Hermione, and we are leaving," he said as calmly as he could. Hermione climbed shakily to her feet and crossed over to him. Draco passed her back her own wand and wrapped a supporting arm around her waist.

His Aunt looked astonished that he was actually touching a Muggleborn, though it was nothing compared to his fathers icy expression.

"_So_," he said coldly. "This is where your loyalty truly lies then, is it?"

"It is, Father."

"Filthy Blood traitor!" Bella shouted, recovering from her shock. "You'll regret this boy! I'm going to -"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Aunt Bella," Draco interrupted. "'Mione and I are the ones with the wands, so we will be leaving now."

"If you leave now you will no longer be my son," Lucius whispered menacingly. "You will never receive your inheritance and -"

"My inheritance?" Draco laughed without humour. "You think I care about my _inheritance_? I have everything I could ever want in life right here in my arms, and we are going."

"You'll never get out, Draco," Lucius said coolly. "Even though you are armed and we are not. You're Mudblood is in no condition to fight, so do you really think you can fight your way past Bella and I alone?"

"He's not alone," Potter said as he and Weasley pulled off the Invisibility cloak, both of them with their wands out.

Hermione gave a little gasp when she saw them and Lucius looked staggered, but it was Bella's reaction that was the strongest. She gave a joyful yell and pointed at Potter, pulling the sleeve of her robe up her left arm –

"No!" Draco shouted, lunging towards her, but she had already pressed a finger to the livid black mark on her pale forearm.

He shoved her to the floor, the wands flying away from him as he tackled her. His father leapt forward and scooped up his fallen wand before turning on Potter and Weasley.

Draco had his hands around Bella's neck, squeezing with all his strength. Her claw-like fingers were grasping at the floor to one side, and he realised too late that she was reaching for the wands. She gave a strangled cry of joy as she bought them up, an invisible force pushing him off her and sending him crashing into the wall.

She was already on her feet with her wand, her wild hair in disarray and a maniacal shine to her eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" she screamed, pointing her wand at Hermione.

"_No!_" Draco yelled as vivid green light flew towards the girl he loved. Moving faster than he thought possible, he threw himself at Hermione just before the spell reached her, knocking her to the floor. The spell just missed them, flying over his head close enough to ruffle his hair in an icy blast.

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at his Aunt. Her eyes widened in shock just before the spell hit her in the chest, sending her crashing to the floor.

He checked Hermione, but she appeared to be unconscious. He found a pulse in her neck, beating strong and steady. There was a small trickle of blood running down her face and he realised that he had knocked her head against the hard wooden floor in his impromptu rescue attempt.

Potter and Weasley were still fighting his father, spells and curses flying around the already destroyed room. They seemed to be evenly matched, neither side being able to get the upper hand, though judging from the sweat shinning on all three foreheads, they were tiring fast.

Draco took careful aim at his fathers back before sending a stunning spell at him from behind. His father whirled around when he heard the incantation, but was too slow to block it, falling to the floor with a similar shocked expression to Bella.

Potter let out a great sigh of relief while Weasley bent over to catch his breath, resting his hands on her knees.

"You alright, Malfoy?" Weasley asked, surprising him.

"No major injuries," Draco replied. "Hermione's unconscious though."

All three boys knelt down beside her. Potter checked her pulse again, Weasley wiped the blood off her cheek but Draco simply stared down at her.

Potter suddenly cursed and clapped a hand to the scar on his forehead. "He's coming, he's almost here."

Weasley swore, "How do we get out of here?"

"You can leave though the Floo," Draco said, slightly dazedly, remembering that Bella had summoned the Dark Lord. "It'll take you back to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean 'you'?" Potter asked sharply.

"I think have to stay here," he said expressionlessly, looking towards where his Father and Aunt lay stunned.

"What? Why?" Weasley asked, this time with shock instead of suspicion.

"The wards," Draco said, moving his gaze to the fireplace. "You need someone of Malfoy blood to let you out."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Potter demanded

"I thought you might not trust me, I thought you might think I was leading you into a trap," he said honestly.

There was a sudden banging noise downstairs, and they heard several voices.

"Quick, to the fire," Draco said hurriedly.

Weasley picked up Hermione and staggered to his feet. Draco took one look at her nestled against his chest and felt something inside him burn.

"Weasley?" he said in a surprisingly chocked voice.

"Huh?" the red haired boy asked.

"I know you love her too," Draco said, feeling the words wrenched from him. "So … well … look after her Weasley. For me – for both of us."

Weasley swallowed and seemed to be struggling for words. "I will, Malfoy," he said eventually.

Draco nodded, and then gestured to the fireplace. Weasley stepped into the fire, Hermione cradled in his arms and glanced once more over his shoulder at the Slytherin boy.

"Hogwarts!" he shouted, and they both vanished in a flash of emerald flame.

Potter hesitated on the edge of the grate, even though they could hear the footsteps of the Death Eaters on the stairs. "Do you … I mean, do you want us to … you know … tell her anything? From you, I mean?"

Draco's throat felt odd, like there was a lump in it that prevented him from speaking and his chest ached oddly.

"Tell her … Tell her … Tell her I never loved her, that it was all a trick," he said, feeling his eyes burn.

"What?" Potter said, aghast.

Draco glanced over his shoulder towards the door, where they could hear voices in the corridor.

"If she knew the truth - that I love her and what they will do to me because of that – well, you know 'Mione, she'll come looking for me, and that's too dangerous for her."

Potter hesitated a moment. "If that's what you think is best …"

Draco nodded, and then started as Potter extended his hand like an equal.

"You're not what I thought you were, Draco," Potter said, shaking his hand.

The door of the drawing room opened and both boys turned around, meeting the eyes of half a dozen Death Eaters, all in full robes and masks, staring at them in shock.

"Its Potter!" one of them shouted, as they all drew their wands.

"Quick, go!" Draco shouted to Harry as they rushed into the room. The black haired boy raised his wand and deflected one of the curses a Death Eater sent towards them.

"Go, Potter!" Draco insisted as he tried to duel three of the Death Eaters at once.

"What about you?" he shouted.

"It's no more than I deserve – now _go_!"

With one last, fleeting look Potter leapt into the fireplace, his shout of "Hogwarts!" lost amidst the angry outbursts of the Death Eaters.

Outnumbered six to one, Draco was quickly over come and stunned. He hated the feeling of being stunned – you couldn't see or hear anything around you. He wallowed in blackness for a long time, though he felt vaguely proud of himself – he had defied his father, something he had longed to do since he was a child.

And he had saved Hermione.

When he came to his senses he was lying on a cold floor. He groaned and opened his eyes, immediately wishing that he hadn't – a disgustingly white, snake like face was staring down at him with red eyes from where he was sitting on a throne like chair.

He was surrounded by masked Death Eaters, and realised that he had been thrown at the Dark Lords feet.

Finding his courage, he tried to stand up and face the monster bravely like a man – like a Gryffindor would do, he thought, which would have made him smile under other circumstances – but was forced to his knees by two unidentifiable Death Eaters.

"So, young Draco," the Dark Lord said in a sibilant voice that made him shiver. "It appears that you have shown your true colours. Not only have you fallen for a Mudblood, but you intentionally aided Harry Potter and allowed him to escape."

Draco grinned almost manically – after hearing that, his _achievements_, he almost didn't care that he was about to die.

"Don't you _smile_ like that you stupid boy!" one of the Death Eaters shouted, and he recognised his fathers voice.

"Now now, Lucius, is that any way to speak to your son?" the Dark Lord asked, addressing one of the Death Eaters in the circle who was visibly trembling with rage. Voldemort leaned towards Draco, capturing him with his repulsive, yet oddly hypnotic eyes.

I shall tell you a secret, young Draco," he said in a soft voice. "It is one of the sins of the fathers to never be proud of their sons."

"That … _boy_ is no son of mine," Lucius insisted. "He has betrayed us, he has sullied himself with that filthy Mudblood."

"Her name is Hermione," Draco said boldly, speaking up for the first time. "And her soul is purer than any of you so called _Purebloods._"

"Take that back, you filthy blood traitor!" Aunt Bella shrieked, stepping forward from the circle with her wand raised.

"Peace Bella, peace," the Dark Lord said. "The boy has such spirit, such passion. He would make a fine Death Eater if he were to direct his emotions to a worthier end."

"I will never serve you," Draco said firmly. "You'll have to kill me."

"Kill you? But that would be such a waste …" Voldemort murmured, caressing his wand. He gave some signal to the two Death Eaters holding Draco and they grabbed his left arm, pushing up the sleeve to reveal the smooth, unblemished pale skin and forcing him to hold it out towards the Dark Lord.

"No, no!" Draco yelled, struggling fruitlessly against the iron grip of the Death Eaters.

"Don't worry, young Draco," Voldemort said. "I am sure you will serve me well. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your dear Mudblood now, would you?"

"No …" he moaned, not sure whether he was protesting or answering the Dark Lords question.

"Besides, I have already thought of a task for you …" Voldemort continued, extending his wand towards his exposed arm.

The tip of the wand touched his arm and Draco screamed as the Dark Mark was permanently burned on to his skin.

_Finis_

Weeeelllll, that's that then – if its not the Dramione ending you hoped for, what were you doing on this chapter?!

I TOLD you to go to Mothers Love, which was the Dramione ending!

This was the original, since I was speculating on how Draco could become a Death Eater if you factor Dramione love into it all … but I decided to write a happier one as well!


	22. A Mother's Love

The night was cold and bitter as Draco apparated outside the gates of his childhood home. Darting off the road, he hid in the bushes as he stared up at the huge hedges flanking the wrought iron gates, waiting for the others.

There were two other popping noises and dark figures appeared in the road exactly where he had been standing a few seconds ago. He couldn't see their faces, but they seemed to look around apprehensively, both of them with hands in their pockets, no doubt wrapped around their wands.

"Psst! Over here," Draco hissed at them.

Potter and Weasley hurried over to the bushes and concealed themselves beside him. Potter was limping and cursing about something.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Splinched myself," he grunted, taking off one of his shoes and sock.

"You left behind your _toenails_?" Draco said incredulously as he saw other boy's bleeding toes.

"Watch it Malfoy," Weasley snarled. "I told you doing this without an apparating licence was stupid."

"Would you rather leave Hermione in there to die?" he demanded.

"She wouldn't even be in there if it wasn't for you!" Weasley said vehemently.

"Can it, you two," Potter said. "Shit, does anyone have anything I can use to stop the bleeding?"

"Here," Draco said, pulling out his wand – he still had Hermione's wand in his pocket from earlier – and waved it over Potters foot and muttering a complex spell. The two Gryffindor boys both tensed, but he ignored them, not letting them break his focus.

"Nice work," Potter said, examining his feet after he was done. The spell couldn't re-grow his toenails, but it had closed the wounds.

"Hermione taught it to me," Draco said softly, turning towards his home. They followed his gaze and looking towards the huge manor house. In the moonlight the grey stone looked ghostly, with several windows on the upper floor were lit, the lights flickering in the darkness. He wandered if Hermione was behind any of those windows, whether she was frightened … whether she was thinking of him.

"Right, remember what I told you about the wards?" Draco asked, tearing his eyes away from the manor.

"Yeah, you can only get through if you have Malfoy blood or something?" Weasley said, scrunching up his face.

Draco sighed, preparing to explain again. "You can only get in if you are a member if the family or if you have been specifically invited. As I have Malfoy blood then I can get us through the wards."

"What about getting out?" Potter asked.

Draco hesitated, and then shrugged. "The wards are only affective on entry. They don't stop people leaving," he lied.

His stomach flooded with ice as they accepted his lie without question. The wards _did_ stop people leaving, and he could only hope that he would be leaving with them so that they would be able to actually escape.

"Did you bring the cloak?"

"Yeah," Potter replied, pulling the silvery material out of an inside pocket.

"Okay, now you and Weasley get under the cloak and stay hidden for as long as you can. Ideally you won't need to take it off at all, but if we are discovered then I would rather have the element of surprise on our side, alright?"

The two Gryffindor boys gave him withering looks – it _had_ been the third or possibly forth time he had gone over the plan – and vanished as Potter threw the cloak over them.

Draco crept out into the road and stood in front of the imposing gates. "Are you guys there?" he hissed. "This is so weird."

"Shut up, Malfoy, we're here," Weasley's voice said out of the darkness.

"How are you going to open the gate?" Potters voice asked. "I bet they've been bewitched so Alohomora doesn't work."

"The gates are only an illusion, they are part of the magical wards," Draco explained. "Now, take my hand," he said, extending one hand towards where the voices had come from.

"What? Why?" Weasley asked suspiciously.

"Because Weaslebee, the wards require skin to skin contact with a member of the blood to pass. Now one of you must be touching me, and the other must be touching him, so that we are all linked via our skin." Neither of them replied, and Draco was left standing with one hand outstretched stupidly in the middle of the road.

"Oh man up!" he said exasperatedly, starting to get annoyed. "You're not going to catch any sort of disease from me! If anything, _I_ should be worried about catching something from _you_."

He heard something that sounded like a muffled sigh and suddenly something invisible grabbed his hand.

"Ready?" he asked.

There was an unenthusiastic "Yeah" and a mumbled "Let's get this over with," though he couldn't tell who spoke.

Draco walked towards the gate, raising his free hand up to his eye level. He felt the magic of the wards flow out from the gate as he stepped through the illusion, rushing through his body and burning his blood in a frenzied examination before abruptly ending, leaving him feeling both drained and invigorated.

"You two okay?" he asked the air behind him.

"Yeah …" Potters voice came floating out of the darkness. "That was …"

"Different," Weasley supplied.

"Different is a good way to describe it."

"Come on," Draco interrupted them. "Let's get up to the manor. Remember, keep the cloak on."

They had only walked about two steps when Draco glanced down at his hand. "I know I'm stunningly attractive, but there really is no reason to keep holding my hand."

There was a noise of disgust and who-ever-it-was wrenched their hand away.

"I always knew you two must be attracted to me," he said sarcastically. "It's the only way to explain the animosity."

"Not bloody likely, Malfoy," Weasley snarled.

Draco smirked. "Sorry to break you're little hearts, but my heart belongs to Hermione."

* * *

Hermione shivered in darkness of the cellar beneath Malfoy Manor. She didn't know how long she had been down there for, but the constant silence and heavy darkness was beginning to press on her nerves.

She had spent the first few hours of her captivity exploring her prison. Feeling her way around, she had discovered what had felt like several wine casks, an ancient stone bench, a rough metal bucket and the stairs she had been thrown down that led to the only exit.

Sitting on the bench, she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, as she wondered where Draco was. She remembered what he had told her about the cellar while they had been in the forest -

_"When I was six I borrowed my fathers broom without permission and went flying around the grounds. He beat me unconscious without even lifting a finger. He stayed sitting in his chair the whole time, his wand in one hand and a wineglass in the other. I woke up in the dungeons and was kept in there for three whole days without any meals. When I was finally allowed out, filthy and starving, do you know what I found waiting for me in my bedroom? A brand new broomstick, just for me, neatly wrapped up in silver paper." _

She could easily picture him as a small child crouched here in the darkness, crying out in vain to parents who didn't care about him.

Her stomach grumbled and she wondered if she would be given any food as the hours wore on. But no, she realised, they wouldn't starve her. She wasn't supposed to be hurt. Draco had promised to save her. He had wanted to join the Order, after all.

_But does he really?_ a suspicious little voice said in the back of her mind. _How can you really know he loves you? You're alone in a prison because of him. The perfect bait in a trap for Harry. How do you know he didn't want it this way?_

Frustrated with her minds paranoid speculations, Hermione took to pacing around her prison, despite the pain in her foot from where Zabini had twisted it – twenty paces along one wall, twelve along the other, around the stairs, another twelve paces and she was back to where she started, only to make the loop again.

She had done forty-seven laps around the dungeon when she realised what she was doing – she shouldn't have to wait for some man to come and save her! She was Hermione Granger, a prefect, one of the best students Hogwarts had ever seen and the brains of the Golden Trio! If anyone could find a way to escape from this cellar, it would be her.

Energised, she examined the lock of the cellar door – the only exit. She couldn't sense a magical lock or any kind of wards around the door, and she distinctly remembered the ominous click of a key being turned as Lucius had shut her in, meaning that the door wasn't blocked with magic at all!

Well, Hermione hadn't spent eleven years of her life in the muggle world without learning a few useful tricks. She pulled an ordinary bobby-pin out of her hair and inserted it into the lock. After a few minutes manipulating the hairpin in the dark she heard a satisfying click and cautiously opened the door.

The cellar opened up to the sparkling clean kitchen, which was thankfully deserted. Night had fallen, meaning she had been in the dungeon for at least eight hours.

She crept out into an ornate hallway. The walls were panelled with highly shined, dark wood and the floor was covered in rich Persian carpets. Hanging on the walls were regal looking portraits of white-blond men and women who were fortunately sleeping in their frames.

She was wondering what she should do – whether she should hide and wait for Draco to come, or should try and make a break for it while she could – when one of the portraits woke up and spotted her.

"Mudblood! Filth, be gone from this place!" the portrait shrieked, reminding her of Mrs Black. Terrified of the noise the picture was making, Hermione turned and sprinted up the corridor, the pain in her foot forgotten as she wished she had her wand so that she could stun the portraits.

The other paintings had jerked awake and were raising the alarm.

"The prisoner is escaping!"

"Filthy Mudblood!"

"She's here, in the West Wing!"

Hermione heard footsteps running towards her and panicked, skidding around to run the other way. Lucius Malfoy appeared around a corner, his face flushed and his wand out. Shock crossed his face for a moment, before being replaced by a sneer. He raised his wand and opened his mouth to speak –

Without even slowing down, Hermione ran straight at him, knocking him to the ground before he could say his spell. Curling her hand into a fist she punched him as hard as she could in the mouth before rolling off him and jumping to her feet.

"Petrificus Totalus!" a voice shouted.

Hermione tried to turn, but the spell hit her square in the back, freezing her muscles and sending her falling to the floor on her face.

"Are you alright, Lucius?" the voice asked. It was distinctively feminine and horribly familiar. _Not her …_ Hermione thought to herself, remembering what had happened at the Ministry of Magic.

"I'm fine, Bella," Lucius said, sounding annoyed.

A foot connected solidly with her side, rolling her onto her back so that she could look up at the two people. Lucius was climbing to his feet, one had wiping across his bloodied lip, while Bellatrix Lestrange stared cruelly down at her.

"Well well well, if it isn't the Mudblood Granger," she said, with an evil smile that sent a cold shiver up Hermione's spine. "Cissy told me all about Draco's plan – quite ingenious of him. I believe he will do the family proud."

"That is if the bitch doesn't escape before the Dark Lord arrives."

"Oh she won't escape again," Bellatrix laughed coldly. "Lucius, you wouldn't mind if I played with her a little, would you now? I do so _love_ Mudbloods …"

"You can do whatever you want with her, Bella," Malfoy said coldly. "The fucking bitch actually hit me, so she deserves to be punished."

"The drawing room?" Bellatrix suggested lightly.

"Better than this corridor." Lucius grabbed Hermione by the hair and dragged her. He wasn't the least bit gentle and she felt several hairs ripped from her scalp, though the stunning spell stopped her from crying out.

She was thrown onto a carpet in the middle of a handsome room with ebony furniture and a huge fireplace. Bellatrix muttered something and Hermione felt the spell lifted from her. She climbed warily to her feet, her eyes on the two Death Eaters.

"You're wondering why I removed the spell, aren't you Mudblood?" Bellatrix said conversationally, though her eyes had a disturbing glint in them.

Hermione hesitated, and then nodded, not trusting her voice.

"You see Mudblood, torture is a form of art," she said, caressing her wand lovingly. "To get the full satisfaction you must be able to hear every scream and watch every writhe of pain."

"You're sick," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "You're really sick."

Bellatrix's face darkened and she raised her wand. "Don't you _dare_ talk back to me, you filthy Mudblood."

"Remember Bella," Lucius said from where he watched by the fire. "Don't kill her, the Dark Lord needs her."

"I won't," she breathed, her demented gaze fixed on Hermione. "I'm just going to soften her up a bit."

Hermione raised her chin defiantly, trying to stop herself from trembling. She was a Gryffindor and she would _not_ show any fear, even knowing what was to come …

"_Crucio!_"

* * *

Draco was at the doors of the manor when he heard Hermione's agonised scream. Without pausing to think, he pulled out his wand and wrenched open the main doors, ignoring Potter and Weasley as he sprinted towards the sound.

A familiar demented laugh rang out amidst the screaming. "Beg me for mercy, Mudblood! Beg!"

Draco kicked open the door to the drawing room – Hermione was curled up on the rug, her body shaking as pain racked her body, while his Aunt Bella was laughing, her wand pointed down at Hermione. His father was leaning against the fireplace and watching the scene with clinical detachment even though his lip was bleeding freely and there was a smear of blood arching over one pale cheek where he had tried to wipe it away.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at his Aunt, making both her wand and his fathers fly into his hands.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Bella snarled at him, looking positively possessed.

"I'm taking Hermione, and we are leaving," he said as calmly as he could. Hermione climbed shakily to her feet and crossed over to him. Draco passed her back her own wand and wrapped a supporting arm around her waist.

His Aunt looked astonished that he was actually touching a Muggleborn, though it was nothing compared to his fathers icy expression.

"_So_," he said coldly. "This is where your loyalty truly lies then, is it?"

"It is, Father."

"Filthy Blood traitor!" Bella shouted, recovering from her shock. "You'll regret this boy! I'm going to -"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Aunt Bella," Draco interrupted. "'Mione and I are the ones with the wands, so we will be leaving now."

"If you leave now you will no longer be my son," Lucius whispered menacingly. "You will never receive your inheritance and -"

"My inheritance?" Draco laughed without humour. "You think I care about my _inheritance_? I have everything I could ever want in life right here in my arms, and we are going."

"You'll never get out, Draco," Lucius said coolly. "Even though you are armed and we are not. You're Mudblood is in no condition to fight, so do you really think you can fight your way past Bella and I alone?"

"He's not alone," Potter said as he and Weasley pulled off the Invisibility cloak, both of them with their wands out.

Hermione gave a little gasp when she saw them and Lucius looked staggered, but it was Bella's reaction that was the strongest. She gave a joyful yell and pointed at Potter, pulling the sleeve of her robe up her left arm –

"No!" Draco shouted, lunging towards her, but she had already pressed a finger to the livid black mark on her pale forearm.

He shoved her to the floor, the wands flying away from him as he tackled her. His father leapt forward and scooped up his fallen wand before turning on Potter and Weasley.

Draco had his hands around Bella's neck, squeezing with all his strength. Her claw-like fingers were grasping at the floor to one side, and he realised too late that she was reaching for the wands. She gave a strangled cry of joy as she bought them up, an invisible force pushing him off her and sending him crashing into the wall.

She was already on her feet with her wand, her wild hair in disarray and a maniacal shine to her eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" she screamed, pointing her wand at Hermione.

"_No!_" Draco yelled as vivid green light flew towards the girl he loved. Moving faster than he thought possible, he threw himself at Hermione just before the spell reached her, knocking her to the floor. The spell just missed them, flying over his head close enough to ruffle his hair in an icy blast.

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at his Aunt. Her eyes widened in shock just before the spell hit her in the chest, sending her crashing to the floor.

He checked Hermione, but she appeared to be unconscious. He found a pulse in her neck, beating strong and steady. There was a small trickle of blood running down her face and he realised that he had knocked her head against the hard wooden floor in his impromptu rescue attempt.

Potter and Weasley were still fighting his father, spells and curses flying around the already destroyed room. They seemed to be evenly matched, neither side being able to get the upper hand, though judging from the sweat shinning on all three foreheads, they were tiring fast.

Draco took careful aim at his fathers back before sending a stunning spell at him from behind. His father whirled around when he heard the incantation, but was too slow to block it, falling to the floor with a similar shocked expression to Bella.

Potter let out a great sigh of relief while Weasley bent over to catch his breath, resting his hands on her knees.

"You alright, Malfoy?" Weasley asked, surprising him.

"No major injuries," Draco replied. "Hermione's unconscious though."

All three boys knelt down beside her. Potter checked her pulse again, Weasley wiped the blood off her cheek but Draco simply stared down at her.

Potter suddenly cursed and clapped a hand to the scar on his forehead. "He's coming, he's almost here."

Weasley swore, "How do we get out of here?"

"You can leave though the Floo," Draco said, slightly dazedly, remembering that Bella had summoned the Dark Lord. "It'll take you back to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean 'you'?" Potter asked sharply.

"I think have to stay here," he said expressionlessly, looking towards where his Father and Aunt lay stunned.

"What? Why?" Weasley asked, this time with shock instead of suspicion.

"The wards," Draco said, moving his gaze to the fireplace. "You need someone of Malfoy blood to let you out."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Potter demanded

"I thought you might not trust me, I thought you might think I was leading you into a trap," he said honestly.

There was a sudden banging noise downstairs, and they heard several voices.

"Quick, to the fire," Draco said hurriedly.

Weasley picked up Hermione and staggered to his feet. Draco took one look at her nestled against his chest and felt something inside him burn.

"Weasley?" he said in a surprisingly chocked voice.

"Huh?" the red haired boy asked.

"Something tells me I'm not getting out of this, and I know you love her too," Draco said, feeling the words wrenched from him. "So … well … look after her Weasley. For me – for both of us."

Weasley swallowed and seemed to be struggling for words. "I will, Malfoy," he said eventually.

Draco nodded, and then gestured to the fireplace. Weasley stepped into the fire, Hermione cradled in his arms and glanced once more over his shoulder at the Slytherin boy.

"Hogwarts!" he shouted, and they both vanished in a flash of emerald flame.

Potter hesitated on the edge of the grate, even though they could hear the footsteps of the Death Eaters on the stairs. "Do you … I mean, do you want us to … you know … tell her anything? From you, I mean?"

Draco's throat felt odd, like there was a lump in it that prevented him from speaking and his chest ached oddly.

"Tell her … Tell her … Tell her I never loved her, that it was all a trick," he said, feeling his eyes burn.

"What?" Potter said, aghast.

Draco glanced over his shoulder towards the door, where they could hear voices in the corridor.

"If she knew the truth - that I love her and what they will do to me because of that – well, you know 'Mione, she'll come looking for me, and that's too dangerous for her."

Potter hesitated a moment. "If that's what you think is best …"

Draco nodded, and then started as Potter extended his hand like an equal.

"You're not what I thought you were, Draco," Potter said, shaking his hand.

The door of the drawing room opened and both boys turned around, meeting the eyes of four Death Eaters, all in full robes and masks, staring at them in shock.

"Its Potter!" one of them shouted, as they all drew their wands.

"Quick, go!" Draco shouted to Harry as they rushed into the room. The black haired boy raised his wand and deflected one of the curses a Death Eater sent towards them.

"Go, Potter!" Draco insisted as he tried to duel two of the Death Eaters at once.

"What about you?" he shouted.

"It's no more than I deserve – now _go_!"

With one last, fleeting look Potter leapt into the fireplace, his shout of "Hogwarts!" lost amidst the angry outbursts of the Death Eaters.

Some how, he managed to stun two of the Death Eaters, evening the odds only slightly. It didn't do any good, however, since he was quickly disarmed by one of the remaining two, who were furious that the Gryffindors had escaped.

Dazed, Draco was knocked to his knees by the blow as his wand went spinning from his hand. Though the Death Eaters approached with their wands raised, he couldn't bring himself to regret any part of the decisions that had brought him here, after all, Hermione was safe, he thought blearily.

A jet of red light arced over his head, catching one of the Death Eaters in the chest and sending him tumbling down. The eyes behind the mask of the remaining Death Eater widened in shock, but then went blank as another arc of light struck him.

Exhausted and disoriented, Draco staggered to his feet to look for the attacker. As he turned he was engulfed in a fierce hug, overwhelmed by the smell of jasmine perfume – his mothers perfume.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" she demanded in a breathless voice, her blonde hair escaping from the jewelled clip holding it in place.

"Mother?" he said in a shocked voice, pulling away from her slightly. Her hands were everywhere, smoothing his lank, dirty hair from his eyes and wiping the blood from his face.

Below them, they heard more hurried footsteps, signalling the arrival of even more Death Eaters.

"Quick, go," Narcissa said, practically dragging him over to the fire with the front of his clothes. Her brilliant blue eyes were practically overflowing with tears.

"Mother, I don't understand," Draco said, resisting slightly as she pushed him towards the smouldering flames, which flared up in an emerald torrent as she threw Floo powder on them.

She turned to face him, and cupped his face in her hands. "I wanted so much more for you than this life, my son," she said softly. "Now go, _please_."

"I thought you were … _his_," he said, realising for the first time that perhaps his mother wasn't merely a tool of his fathers.

"Never, Draco," she said, taking his hands and squeezing them between her own soft, pale ones. "Now go, seek sanctuary with the Order and fight against this monster that is the Dark Lord." When he hesitated, she pushed him closer to the fire. "Go, Draco!"

"Thank you, mother," he said softly, fully understanding the sacrifice she was making for him – he could hear the heavy thud of the Death Eaters shoes in the corridor.

"And Draco?" she added, reaching out as if to touch him again. "Be happy, my son."

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and stepped into the fire. With one last look back at his mother, standing looking so small, and yet so brave in that room full of carnage, he said in a clear voice, "Hogwarts!"

He closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over as he span through the fireplaces of the Wizarding world in a rush of heat. He felt himself slowing and, throwing out his arms, stumbled out into an opulent office.

He had never been in there before, but he knew instantly that it must be Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was sitting in a regal looking chair behind his desk, while Potter and Weasley, looking filthy and exhausted, were in the tow chairs in front of it.

Hermione was laid out on a small sofa to one side, still unconscious, but being fussed over by Madame Pomfrey.

Draco staggered straight over to her, dropping to his knees next to her sleeping form and leaning over her. "Is she going to be alright?" he asked the Matron, running his fingers over her chilled skin.

"She'll be fine," the Matron sniffed, disapproval etched onto every inch of her face. "That is, if you let me actually work instead of draping yourself all over her like that."

Sitting back on his heels, Draco let out a shaky laugh and looked over at the trio sitting at the desk. Potter grinned at him, and Weasley didn't look entirely disappointed to see him alive either, something like a smile almost tugging at his mouth.

Dumbledore stood up, his eyes twinkling. "I must say, Mr Malfoy, that I am relived to see you alive," he said. "Mr Potter and Mr Weasley here were convinced you had succeeded in sacrificing yourself."

"My mother," he said as an explanation. "She …" but he found he couldn't go on, his throat closing up at the memory of his mother in that dark room.

"I understand," Dumbledore said, and then waved a hand indicating that Draco should take one of the seats at his desk. Draco lowered himself down, keeping one eye on Hermione in the corner, and Dumbledore regarded him over his steepled fingers.

"Now Mr Malfoy," he said, surveying him over his half-moon glasses. "Mr Potter here tells me that you have expressed an interest in joining the Order of the Phoenix."

FINIS

**Well, that's it … Imagine your own ending to the whole Voldemort issue, because this just covers the Dramione ending – the way I see it they will be happy fighting together as members of the Order. And don't worry about the whole Ron thing either. About a week after this he and Pansy get detention together and … well ... ;)**

**But like I said, its sort of open ended so people can imagine their own ending, whether they want a Dramione Marriage or little blond kids – its up to you! **

**If you wanna read the other NON-DRAMIONE ending, go to Sins of the Father.**

**Thanks for reading this far, and sorry for the delays in updates … :S**

**Review if you like – but no flames! I just mock flamers and delete them!**

**Toodles xoxoxox**


End file.
